DIALOGUES 

ON 

ELOQUENCE 

IN GENERAL; 

PARTICULARLY THAT KIND WHICH IS FIT TOR 

THE PULPIT: 
M. £ENELON, 

LATE ARCHBISHOP OF CAM BRAY. 

WITH HIS 

LETTER 

TO THE 

FRENCH ACADEMY, 

CONCERNING 

RHETORIC, POETRY, HISTORY, 
AND A COMPARISON 

BETWEEN THE ANCIENTS AND MODERNS. 

%vamlnttti from tlje jFrenci), 

AND ILLUSTRATED WITH NOTES AND QUOTATIONS, 

By WILLIAM STEVENSON, M. A. 



Si ilisto CDttion, 

Revised and Corrected, 
WITH ADDITIONAL NOTES, 

By THE REV. JAMES CREIGHTON, B. A. 



HonUon : 

PRINTED BY J. MOYES, SHOE LANE, 
FOR W. BAYXES, PATERNOSTER-ROW, 

1808. 






>o5 












<rt 



i 



s 7 

THE 

TRANSLATOR'S ADVERTISEMENT. 



I HE French prefacer has given a full ac- 
count of the following pieces, I think it 
needless to recommend them : they are the 
late Archbishop of Cambray's. Some apo- 
logy, however, may be expected for my un- 
dertaking a translation which deserved the 
finest pen. All I can say, without the ap- 
pearance of vanity, is, that I was afraid it 
should fall into worse hands. I have more 
reason to make some excuse for the unusual 
liberty I have taken, in translating the 
Dialogues, which I could not avoid. 
Their style is extremely concise; some- 
times obscure. And the Paris edition, 
the standard of the other, is so faulty, 
not only in those places which are marked 



vi THE TRANSLATOR'S 

among the errata, but throughout the 
Dialogues, that either they never had 
the authors finishing hand, or they must 
have been published from a very defective 
copy. In order, therefore, to do him jus- 
tice, I found it necessary to clothe his 
thoughts in an English dress, without con- 
fining myself always to a strict translation 
of the French. Accordingly, I have para- 
phrased several passages ; transposed a few; 
and added whatever seemed proper to set 
his true sentiments in the fullest light. I 
would not have taken so much freedom 
with any piece which the author published 
in his life-time. But as he ought not to be 
charged with the faults of a posthumous 
edition; so I did not think myself obliged 
to shew the same deference to the French 
publisher, which might be justly due to the 
judicious author himself. The Letter to 
the French Academy, which was published 
some years before his death, is far more cor- 
rect. In translating it, I have kept as close 
to his style as our language would permit. 
I have not, indeed, always expressed myself 



ADVERTISEMENT. VU 

so succinctly as he : nor did I endeavour it. 
Though I admire conciseness, I prefer per- 
spicuity, when I cannot be both short and 
clear. 

To illustrate and confirm our author's 
notions, I have adorned this translation 
with many instructive, beautiful passages, 
collected from some of the finest writers, 
both ancient and modern, which are not in 
the French edition, I have likewise added 
some few passages of another kind. The 
quotations themselves, and the placing the 
marks of reference, clearly point out the 
view with which each passage is quoted* 
If, for this purpose, I had every where 
added introductory notes of my own, the 
reader would have had reason to complain 
of my distrusting his judgment. 

Some critics will think I have too often 
neglected such connecting particles as, for, 
but, seeing, &c. There is a particular beauty 
in this omission : and I should have left out 
many more, if I had closely followed our au- 
thor's example, or my own judgment. But 
too much must not be attempted at once. 



viii THE TRANSLATOR'S ADVERTISEMENT. 

Throughout the following sheets, per- 
haps there are still too many marks of in- 
accuracy. I wish they may pass for in- 
stances of that affected negligence which 
our author recommends. His Letter plain- 
ly shews that he would not always avoid 
every little defect ! nor ought it always to 
be expected of his translator, if he could. 
An elaborate style, and a scrupulous exact- 
ness, are inconsistent with the familiar strain 
of a Dialogue. It were easy to prove, that 
the free, and seemingly careless manner, 
which might be blameable in other pieces, 
is really beautiful here ; as being a just imi- 
tation of nature. But I will not lengthen 

this advertisement into a preface. 



ADVERTISEMENT 



THE EDITOR. 



MOST modern Writers, who have treated of 
Eloquence, have adverted to the Dialogues of the 
great and venerable Archbishop of Cambray, 
and mentioned them in a high and deserved strain 
of admiration. Dr. Doddridge prays that 
" God may put it into the hearts of our preachers 

" often and attentively to read them!" Dr. 

Williams speaks of them thus : — " Such a union 
" of the sublime and simple, of learning and fa- 
'" miliarity, of judicious criticism and happy illus- 
" tration ; such unaffected humility and warm be- 
" nevolence, delicate taste and solid sense ; and, 
" above all, such reverence for sacred things, are 
" superior excellencies very rarely found." And 
David Fordyce, in his Art of Preaching, has 
these words : — " If you want to see the whole ma- 
u chinery and apparatus of it displayed in the 
" completest manner, I refer you to the great 
u and good Prelate of Cambray's Dialogues on 



x ADVERTISEMENT 

" that subject ; who was himself the justest critic, 
" and one of the best models of eloquence, that I 
" know." 

The Abbe Maury, in his eulogium of the 
Archbishop of Cambray, delivered before the 
French Academy in 1771, gives the following trait 
of this great and good man : — " He was the orator 
" of the people, and pleaded the cause of hu- 
u manity before kings : a man, illustrious by the 
" renown of his name, the eminence of his vir- 
" tues, the superiority of his talents, and the im- 
€ A portance of his functions; and whose mind was 
Ci entirely engrossed in consulting the happiness 
u of the human race." 

After such recommendation of these Dialogues, 
and such a character of their author; it is scarcely 
necessary to add any thing more, to induce young 
men who are designed for the ministry, to study 
them with the deepest attention, and sedulously 
endeavour to reduce the precepts contained in 
them to practice. Let them, however, always 
advert to what St. Paul says to the Corinthians : 

My preaching was not with persuasive words 

of human wisdom ; but in demonstration of the spi- 
rit, and of power. It was by this power that he 
made a Roman governor tremble; and almost per* 
tuaded a Jewish king <o become a Christian. 
" I must frankly confess," saith Fordyce, in his 



BY THE EDITOR. XL 

Art of Preaching, " that I do not believe any 
" method whatever will be sufficient, though sup- 
" ported with the utmost force of human elo- 
" quence, to produce a real and lasting reforma- 
" tion; unless the great Father of spirits concur 
M with a divine energy, to transfuse life and vi- 
" gour into the heart. So that, after the last 
" efforts of human skill, we must have recourse to 
" a superior Hand, to open the inmost springs of 
" the soul, and to carry along every sentiment 
" and passion with a current of irresistible per- 
" suasion." And He, who spake as never man 
spake^ gives us a clew to judge, by their fruits , 
whether men are really commissioned of God to 
prophesy, or speak in his name. 

Undoubtedly, the best criterion to form our 
estimate of pulpit-eloquence, is, by the effects 
produced upon the hearers. Conviction of sin, 
and reformation of life, when produced, are de- 
monstrative evidence that the end designed is ac- 
complished ; consequently, that the orator spoke 
well : for, he is to be esteemed the best physi- 
cian, who effects the cure. Louis XIV. after 
hearing Father Massillon preach his first advent 
sermon at Versailles, said to him, " Father, I 
" have heard and been much pleased with many 
'•' fine orators ; but always when I have heard 



xii ADVERTISEMENT. 

" you, I have been very much displeased with 
■" myself." 

The Abbe Maury, indeed, is unbounded in 
his preference of the French orators; and rather 
illiberal and severe, when speaking of the Eng- 
lish. Yet he grants, that u sometimes rhetorical 
" strokes may be discovered among these : and 
16 that it is not genius, but the genius of oratory, 
iC that they want." However, if we may be al- 
lowed (as above observed) to judge by the effects ; 
then we join issue with the Abbe, and challenge 
him to shew, by all the oratory in France, Italy, 
and Spain, such reformation of heart and life as 
hath been produced in hundreds of thousands of 
the inhabitants of Great Britain and the adjacent 
islands, by preaching, during the last sixty years. 

The whole Work has been carefully revised 
and corrected : and several additional extracts 
are inserted in the Notes, in this Edition; which, 
it is hoped, will be acceptable to the reader. 

London, Sept. 10, 1808. 



PREFACE. 



BOTH the ancients and the moderns have treated of 
Eloquence, with different views, and in different ways ; 
as logicians, as grammarians, and as critics : but we still 
wanted an author who should handle this delicate sub- 
ject as a philosopher, and a Christian ; and this the late 
Archbishop of Cambray has done in the following 
Dialogues. 

In the ancient writers we find many solid precepts 
of rhetoric, and very just rules laid down with great 
exactness : but they are oftentimes too numerous, too 
dry ; and, in fine, rather curious than useful. Our ju- 
dicious author reduces the essential rules of this wonder- 
ful art to these three points— 'proving, painting, and 
moving the passions. 

To qualify his orator for proving, or establishing, 
any truth, he would have him a philosopher ; who 
knows how to enlighten the understanding, while he 
moves the passions ; and to act at once upon all the 
powers of the mind ; not only by placing the truth in 
so clear a light as to gain attention and assent; but 
likewise, by moving all the secret springs of the soul, to 
make it love that truth of which it is convinced. In 
one word, our author would have his orator's mind 
filled with bright, useful truths, and the most noble, 
exalted views. 



xiv PREFACE. 

That he may be able to paint, or describe well, he 
should have a poetic kind of enthusiasm ; and know 
how to employ beautiful figures, lively images, and bold 
touches, when the subject requires them. But this art 
ought to be entirely concealed ; or, if it must appear, it 
should seem to be a just copy of nature. Wherefore, 
our ingenious author rejects all such false ornaments as 
serve only to please the ear with harmonious sounds; 
and the imagination with ideas which are more gay and 
sparkling, than just and solid. 

To move the passions, our eloquent author would 
have an orator set every truth in its proper place ; and 
so connect them, that the first may make way for the 
second; and the next support the former: so that the 
discourse shall gradually advance in strength and clear- 
ness, till the hearers perceive the whole weight ; and 
force of the truth. And then he ought to display it in 
the liveliest images ; and, both in his words and gesture, 
use all those affecting movements which are proper to 
express the passions he would excite. 

It is by reading the ancients that we must form our 
taste, and learn the art of eloquence in all its extent. 
But, seeing that some of the ancients themselves have 
their defects, we must read them with caution and 
judgment. Our learned author distinguishes the ge- 
nuine beauties of the purest antiquity, from the false 
ornaments used in after-ages : he points out what is ex- 
cellent, and what is faulty, both in sacred and profane 
authors; and shews that the eloquence of the holv 
scriptures, in many places, surpasses that of the Greeks 



PREFACE. XV 

and Romans, in native simplicity, liveliness, grandeur, 
and in every thing which can recommend truth to our 
assent and admiration. 

Nothing can be more proper than "these Dialogues, 
to guard us against the vitiated taste of false wit, which 
serves only for amusement and ostentation. Such elo- 
quence as is founded on vanity and self-love, delights in 
gaudy ornaments, and neglects the genuine graces of a 
noble simplicity. For, the glittering fancy, quaint turns, 
and forced antitheses, the smooth periods, and other 
artificial ornaments of false oratory, make a little genius 
lose the relish of those superior and solid beauties which 
force their way to, and at once enlighten and captivate, 
the mind. 

They, who value nothing but wit, will probably dis- 
like the plainness of these Dialogues : but they would 
form another judgment of them, if they considered that 
there are different styles of dialogue; of which anti- 
quity furnishes two celebrated patterns — the Dialogues 
of Plato, and those of Lucian. Plato, like a true philo- 
sopher, studied chiefly to give force and light to his ar- 
guments, and chose no other style than what is used in 
conversation ; so that his language is artless, easy, and 
familiar. On the contrary, Lucian is every where witty 
and sparkling. All the persons introduced by him have 
a sprightly delicate fancy; so that, in reading him, we 
forget the feigned characters of gods and men, who 
speak in his Dialogues, and cannot but see the ingenious 
author in every thing they say. We must own, how- 
ever, that he is an original, who has succeeded wonder- 



xvi PREFACE. 

fully in this way of writing. He ridiculed men in the 
most facetious, pleasing manner ; while Plato instructed 
them with gravity and wisdom. The Archbishop of 
Cambray has imitated them both, on different subjects. 
In his Dialogues of the Dead, (which he composed for 
the instruction of a young prince, who was his pupil,) 
we find the various wit and agreeable humour of Lu- 
cian. And in the following sheets, where he lays down 
the rules of such a grave eloquence as is proper to move 
and persuade men, he imitates Plato: every thing is na- 
tural and instructive; and, instead of wit and humour, 
we find truth and wisdom shine throughout the com- 
position. 

It was thought proper to subjoin to these Dialogues 
the author's Letter to the French Academy, concerning 
rhetoric, poetry, and other subjects ; which has met 
with so good reception, that it cannot but be accept- 
able to every polite reader. The Dialogues, though 
but lately published, were composed several years ago, 
in the Archbishop's younger days: but the Letter was 
written in his more advanced age, in answer to one 
which the Academy sent him by their Secretary, desir- 
ing his advice on the several subjects he treats of; and 
therefore it is penned with the utmost elegance and po- 
liteness. However, both in the Dialogues and the Let- 
ter we find the same just taste, the same noble genius; 
the very same maxims; and the same design in writing; 
to reduce all compositions to nature, decency, and 
truth. 



CONTENTS. 



DIALOGUES concerning Eloquence in general, and 
particularly that kind which is fit for the Pulpit. 

Dialogue the First • • Page 1 

Dialogue the Second • • • • * • 66 

Dialogue the Third 133 

A Letter to the French Academy, concerning Rhe- 
toric, Poetry, History ; and a Comparison be- 
tween the Ancients and Moderns • 205 

Sect. I. Of a Dictionary, and its advantages • • • • 207 

Sect. II. A new G rammar proposed 208 

Sect. HI. Of improving a Language 210 

Sect. IV. A Proposal for a new Treatise of Rhe- 
toric 217 

Sect. V. Of Poetry, ancient and modern 24? 

Sect. VI. Of Tragedy • 275 

Sect. VII. Of Comedy 289 

Sect. VIII. Of History 294 

Sect. IX. An Objection answered 307 

Sect. X. A Comparison between the Ancients and 
Moderns 30$ 



DIALOGUES, &c 



THE 

FIRST DIALOGUE 

BETWEEN 2. 2ND R. J2ND C. 



A. WELLj sir, I suppose you have been hear- 
ing the sermon to which you would have carried 
me. I have but very little curiosity that way, 
and am content with our parish minister. 

B. I was charmed with my preacher. You 
had a great loss^ sir, in not hearing him. I have 
hired a pew^ that I may not miss one of his Lent 
sermons. O! he is a wonderful man. If you 
did'but once hear him^ you could never bear any 
other. 

A. If it be sOj I am resolved never to hear 
him. I would not have any one preacher give 
me a distaste of all others ; on the contrary, I 
should choose one who will give me such a rHUU 

B 



g DIALOGUES 

and respect for the word of God, as may dispose 
me the more to hear it preached every where. 
But since I have lost so much by not hearing this 
fine discourse with which you are so pleased, you 
may make up part of that loss, if you will be so 
kind as to communicate to us what you remember 
of it. 

B. I should only mangle the sermon, by en* 
deavouring to repeat any part of it. There were 
a hundred beauties in it which one cannot recol- 
lect, and which none but the preacher himself 
could display. 

A. Well; but let us at least know something 
of his design, his proofs, his doctrine, and the 
chief truths on which he enlarged. Do you re* 
member no part of it ? Were you inattentive ? 

B. Far from it : I never listened with more 
attention and pleasure. 

C. What is the matter, then ? Do you tvant 
to be entreated ? 

B. No : but the preacher's thoughts were so 
refined, and depended so much on the turn and 
delicacy of his expressions, thatj though they 
charmed me while I heard them, they cannot be 
easily recollected ; and, though one could remem- 
ber them, if expressed in other words, they would 
not seem to be the same thoughts, but would lose 
all their grace and force. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. g 

A. Surely, sir, these beauties must be very 
fading, if they vanish thus upon the touch, and 
will not bear a review. I should be much better 
pleased with a discourse which has more body in 
it, and less spirit; that things might make a deeper 
impression on the mind^ and be more easily re- 
membered* What is the end of speaking, but to 
persuade people, and to instruct them in such 
truths as they can retain ?* 

C. Now you have begun, sir* I hope you will 
go on with this useful subject. 

A. I wish I could prevail with you, sir, td 
give us some general notion of the elegant ha- 
rangue which you heard. 

B. Since you are so very urgent, I will tell 
you what I can recollect of it. The text was 
this, * I have eaten ashes like bread :* Psal. cii. 9. 
Now, could any one make a happier choice of a 
text for Ash-Wednesday ? He shewed us, that, 
according to this passage, ashes ought this day to 

* " The chief end of an orator is to persuade : therefore. 
" that preacher, who in his discourses only flourishes in gene- 
" nil notions, and does not drive at some particular argument, 

* endeavouring to press upon his auditory the belief Or prac- 
" tice of some truth or duty, is like an unwise fisher, who 
u spreads his net to the empty air, where he cannot expect 

* any success of his labours." 

Dr. Williams' Christian Preacher. 

b2 



4 DIALOGUES 

be the food of our souls : then, in his preamble, 
he ingeniously interwove the story of Artemesia, 
with regard to her husband's ashes. His transi- 
tion * to his Ave-Maria was very artful ; and his 
division was extremely ingenious : you shall judge 
of it. " 1. Though this dust/' said he, " be a 
" sign of repentance, it is a principle of felicity. 
" 2. Though it seems to humble us, it is really a 
" source of glory. 3. And though it represents 
a death, it is a remedy which gives immortal 
u life." He turned his division various ways, 
and every time he gave it a new lustre by his 
antitheses. The rest of his discourse was not less 

* The Romish preachers, in the preamble of their ser^ 
mons, address themselves to the Virgin Mary; and are oft- 
times very artful in their transition to it, as our author ob- 
serves. We have a remarkable example of this in one of the 
greatest French orators, M. L'Esprit Flechier, bishop of 
Nismes, who seems to be oftener than once alluded to in 
these Dialogues. In his panegyric on St. Joseph he intro- 
duces his Ave-Maria thus : " Every thing seems to concur to 
" the glory of my subject; the Holy Spirit, Jesus Christ, and 
" Mary, are concerned in it ; why may I not hope for the 
" assistance of one of them, the grace of the other, and the 
" intercessions of the Virgin? to whom we will address our- 
" selves in those words which the angel said to her, and which 
u St. Joseph, no doubt, often repeated ; Hail ! Mary," &c. 

Panegyrics, vol. i. p. 71. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 5 

bright and elegant; the language was polite/ the 
thoughts new, the periods were harmonious, and 
each of them concluded with some surprising 
turn. He gave such just characters of common 
life, that his hearers found their various pictures 
faithfully drawn : and his exact anatomy of all 
tlie passions equalled the maxims of the great 
Rochefoucault. In short, I think it was a master- 
piece. But, sir, I shall be glad to know your 
opinion of it. 

A. I am unwilling to tell you my thoughts, or 
to lessen your esteem of it. We ought to reve- 
rence the word of God; to improve ourselves by 
all the truths which a preacher explains ; and 
avoid a critical humour, lest we should lessen the 
authority of the sacred function. 

B. You have nothing to fear, sir, at present. 
It is not out of curiosity that I ask yoxiy opinion ; 
but because I would have clear notions of it ; and 
such solid instructions, as may not only satisfy 
myself, but be of use to others : for you know 
that my profession obliges me to preach. Give 
us your thoughts, therefore, without any reserve ; 
and do not be afraid either of contradicting or of- 
fending me. 

A. Since you will have it so, I must obey 
your commands. To be free, then ; I conclude, 



Q DIALOGUES 

from your own account of this sermon, that it was 
a very sorry one.* 
B. Why so ? 

A, Why ; can a sermon, in which the scrip- 
ture is falsely applied ; a scrap of profane history 
told after a dry, childish manner ; and a vain aft 
fectation of wit runs throughout the whole; can 
such a sermon be good 3 

B. By no means : but I do not think that the 
sermon I heard is of that sort. 

A. Have patience, and I doubt not but you 
and I shall agree. When the preacher chose 
these words for his text, ' I have eaten ashes like 
' bread,' ought he to have amused his audience 
with observing some kind of relation between the 
mere sound of his text and the peremony of the 

* " A preacher may propose a very regular method, pro* 
4< secute it very exactly, express himself all along with abun- 
" dance of accuracy, and, if you will, of elegance too ; adorn 
" the whole with many a fine flower and artificial trapping 
41 of language : in short, deliver a very pretty harangue, a 
" very genteel discourse, as it is commonly termed ; which 
*f yet may prove, after all, but a sorry sermon, and in reality 
" good for little, but to amuse superficial judges, and to con- 
" vince thorough ones, that the man aspires at the reputation, 
M wjithout the (jualification, of an orator." 

Fordyce, on Pulpit Elcqiicuce. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 7 

day ? Should lie not first have explained the 
(rue sense of the words, before he applied them 
to the present occasion ? 
B. It had been better. 

A, Ought he not, therefore, to have traced 
the subject a little higher, by entering into the 
true occasion and design of the psalm, and ex- 
plaining the context ? Was it not proper for him 
to enquire whether the interpretation he gave of 
the words was agreeable to the true meaning of 
them, before he delivered his own sense to the 
people, as if it were the word of God ? 

B. He ought to have done so : but what fault 
was there in his interpretation ? 

A. Why, I will tell you* David, who was 
the author of the hundred and second psalm, 
speaks of his own misfortunes: he tells us,, that 
his enemies insulted him cruelly, when they saw 
him in the dust, humbled at their feet, and re- 
duced, as he poetically expresses it, to ' eat ashes 

* like bread;' and, ' to mingle his drink with 

* weeping.' Now, what relation is there between 
the complaints of David, driven from his throne, 
and persecuted by his son Absolom ; and the hu- 
miliation of a Christian, who puts ashes on his 
forehead to remind him of his mortality, and dis- 
engage him from sinful pleasures ? Could the 
preacher find no other text in scripture ? Did 



8 .' DIALOGUES 

Christ and his apostles, or the prophets, never 
speak of death, and the dust of the grave, to 
which all our pride and vanity must be reduced ? 
Does not the scripture contain many affecting ima- 
ges of this important truth ? Might he not. have 
been content with the words of Genesis, iii. 19. 
which are so natural and proper for this cere- 
mony, and chosen by the church itself? Should 
a vain delicacy make him afraid of too often re- 
peating a text which the Holy Spirit has dictated, 
and which the church appoints to be used every 
year ? Why should he neglect such a pertinent 
passage, and many other places of scripture, to 
pitch on one which is not proper ? This must 
flow from a depraved taste, and a fond inclination 
to say something new. 

B. You grow too warm, sir : supposing the li- 
teral sense of the text not to be the true meaning 
of it, the preacher's remarks might, however, be 
very fine, and solid. 

C. As for my part, I do not care whether a 
preacher's thoughts be fine or net, till I am first 
satisfied of their being true. But, sir, what say 
you to the rest of the sermon ? 

A. It was exactly of a piece with the text, 
Flow could the preacher give such misplaced or- 
naments to a subject in itself so terrifying; and 
amuse his hearers with an idle story of Artcme- 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. Q 

sia's sorrow, when lie ought to have alarmed 
them, and given them the most terrible images 
of death ? 

B. I perceive, then, that you do not like turns 
of wit on such occasions. But what Avould be- 
come of eloquence, if it were stripped of such or- 
naments ? Would you confine every body to the 
plainness of country preachers ? Such men are 
useful among the common people ; but persons of 
distinction have more delicate ears ; and we must 
adapt our discourses to their polite taste. 

A . You are now leading me off from the point. 
I was endeavouring to convince you, that the plan 
of the sermon was ill laid ; and I was just going to 
touch upon the division of it : but, I suppose, you 
already perceive the reason why I dislike it ; for 
the preacher lays down three quaint conceits for 
the subject of his whole discourse. When one 
chooses to divide a sermon, he should do it plain- 
ly, and give such a division as naturally arises from 
the subject itself, and gives light and just order to 
the several parts ; such a division as may be easily 
remembered, and at the same time help to connect 
and retain the whole : in fine, a division which 
shews at once the extent of the subject, and of all 
its parts. But, on the contrary, here is a man 
who endeavours to dazzle his hearers, and puts 
them off with three points of wit, or puzzling rid- 



10 DIALOGUES 

dies, which he turns and plies so dexterously, that 
they must fancy they saw some tricks of legerde- 
main.* Did this preacher use such a serious, grave 
manner of address, as might make you hope for 
something useful and important from him? But, 
to return to the point you proposed ; did you not 
ask me whether I meant to banish eloquence from 
the pulpit ? 

B. Yes, I fancy that is your drift. 

A. Think you so ? Pray what do you mean by 
eloquence ? 

B. It is the art of speaking well. 

A. Has this art no other end, besides that of 
speaking well ? Have not men some design in 
speaking ? or do they talk only for the sake of 
talking ? 

* " A blind desire to shine and to please, is often at the 
u expense of that substantial honour which might be obtain- 

11 ed, were Christian orators to give themselves up to the 
H pure emotions of piety, which so well agree with the sensi- 
u bility necessary to eloquence/* 

Abbe Maury's Principles of Eloquence, sect. 9. 

" Uncommon expressions, strong flashes of wit, pointed 
H similies, and epigrammatic turns, especially when they re- 
" cur too frequently, often disfigure, rather than embellish, a 
u discourse. It commonly happens, in such cases, that twenty 
" insipid conceits are found for one thought which is reajly 
" beautiful." Hume's Essays. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. H 

B. They speak to please, and to persuade 
others. 

A. Pray let us carefully distinguish these two 
things. Men talk in order to persuade ; that is 
certain : and too often they speak likewise to 
please others. But while one endeavours to 
please, he has another view ; which, though more 
distant, ought to be his chief aim. A man of pro- 
bity has no other design in pleasing others, than 
that he may the more effectually inspire them 
with the love of justice, and other virtues ; by re- 
presenting them as most amiable. He who seeks 
to advance his own interest, his reputation, or his 
fortune, strives to please, only that he may gain 
the affection and esteem of such as can gratify his 
ambition, or his avarice : so that this very design 
of pleasing is still but a different manner of persua- 
sion which the orator aims at ; for he pleases others 
to inveigle their affection, that he may thereby 
persuade them to what advances his interest. 

B. You cannot but own, then, that men often 
speak to please. The most ancient orators had 
t)iis view. Cicero's orations plainly shew that he 
laboured hard for reputation : and who will not be- 
lieve the same of Isocrates, and Demosthenes too ? 
All the panegyrists were more solicitous for their 
own honour, than for the fame of their heroes ; and 
they extolled a prince's glory to the skies, chiefly 



If DIALOGUES 

because they hoped to be admired for their inge- 
nious manner of praising him. This ambition seems 
to have been always reckoned commendable both 
among the Greeks and the Romans : and such 
emulation brought eloquence to its perfection : it 
inspired men with noble thoughts and generous 
sentiments, by which the ancient republics were 
made to flourish. The advantageous light in which 
eloquence appeared in great assemblies, and the 
ascendency it gave the orator over the people, 
made it to be admired, and helped to spread po- 
lite learning. I cannot see, indeed, why such an 
emulation should be blamed, even among Christ- 
ian orators ; provided they did not shew an inde- 
cent affectation in their discourses, nor in the least 
enervate the precepts of the gospel. We ought 
not to censure what animates young people, and 
forms our greatest preachers. 

A. You have here put several tilings toge- 
ther, which, if you please, sir, we will consider 
separate] j' ; and observe seme method in enquir- 
ing what we ought to conclude from them. 13ut 
let us, above all things, avoid a wrangling hu- 
mour ; and examine the subject with calmness 
and temper, like persons who are afraid of no- 
thing so much as of error : and let us place the 
true point of honour in a candid acknowledgment 
of our mistakes, whenever we perceive (hen. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 13 

B. That is the exact state of my mind ; or at 
least I judge it to be so ; and I entreat you to tell 
me when you find me transgressing this equitable 
rule. 

A. We will not at present talk of what relates 
to preachers ; for that point may be more season- 
ably considered afterwards. Let us begin with 
those orators whose examples you adduced. By 
mentioning Demosthenes and Isocrates together, 
you disparage the former ; for the latter was a 
lifeless declaimer, who busied himself in polish* 
ing his thoughts, and giving a harmonious cadence 
to his periods. He had a very low* and vulgar 
notion of eloquence, and placed almost the whole 
of it in a nice disposal of his words. A man who 
employed ten, or, as others say, fifteen years, ia 
smoothing the periods of a panegyric, which was 
a discourse concerning the necessities of Greece, 
could give but a very small and slow relief to the 
republic, against the enterprises of the Persian 
king. Demosthenes spoke against Philip in a 

* In the introduction of this very panegyric which our 
author mentions, Isocrates says, " Such is the nature of elo- 
" quence, that it makes great things appear little, and small 
M things to seem great ; it can represent old things as new, 
H and new things as if they were old ; and that therefore he 
" would not decline a suhject which others had handled be- 
** fore him, but would endeavour to declaim better than 



14 DIALOGUES 

quite different manner. You may read the Com- 
parison which Dionysius Halicarnassus has made 
of these two orators, and see there the chief faults 
which he observed in Isocrates ; whose discourses 
are vainly gay and florid ; and his periods ad- 
justed with incredible pains, merely to please the 
ear : while, on the contrary, Demosthenes moves^ 
warms, and captivates the heart.** He was too 
sensibly touched with the interest of his country ^ 
to mind the little glittering fancies which amused 
Isocrates. Every oration of Demosthenes is a 
close chain of reasoning, which represents the, 
generous notions of a soul who disdains any 
thought which is not great. His discourses gra- 
dually increase in force by greater light and new 
reasons, which are always illustrated by bold 

** they." — Upon which Longinus, sect. 38, makes this judi- 
cious remark ; that by giving such a character of eloquence, 
in the beginning of his panegyric, the orator in effect cau- 
tioned his hearers not to believe his discourse. 

* In oratoribus vero, Grsecis quidem, admirabile est 
quantum inter omnes units excellat. Attamen cum esset De- 
mosthenes, multi oratores magni, et clari fuerunt, et antea 
fuerant, nee postea defecerunt. Cic. Or at, sect. 2. 

Quid denique Demosthenes ? non ennctos illos tenues et 
circumspectos [oratores] vi, sublimitate, impetu, cultu, com- 
positione superavit? non insurgit locis? non figuris gaudet> 
non translationibus nitet? non oratione ficta dat carentibus 
vocem? Quintil. lib. xii. cap. 10. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 15 

figures and lively images. One cannot but see 
that he has the good of the republic entirely at 
heart, and that nature itself speaks in all his trans- 
ports ; for his artful address is so masterly, that 
it never appears. Nothing ever equalled the 
force and vehemence of his discourses. Have 
you never read the remarks which Longinus 
made on them, in his treatise of the sublime ? 

B. No : is not that the treatise which Mr. 
Boileau translated ? Do you think it fine ? 

A. I am not afraid to tell you that I think it 
surpasses Aristotle's rhetoric ; which, though it be 
a very solid tract, is yet clogged with many dry 
precepts, which are rather curious than fit for 
practice ; so that it is more proper to point out 
the rules of art to such as are already eloquent, 
than to give us a just taste of rhetoric^ and to form 
true orators. But Longinus, in his discourse of 
the sublime, intersperses among his precepts 
many fine examples from the greatest authors, to 
illustrate them. He treats of the sublime in a 
lofty manner,* as his translator has judiciously 

* Thee, bold Longinus ! all the nine inspire, 
And bless their critic with a poet's fire : 
An ardent judge, who, zealous in his trust, 
With warmth gives sentence, yet is always just : 
Whose own example strengthens all his laws, 
And is himself that great sublime he draws. 

Pope's Essay on Criticism* 



16 DIALOGUES 

observed : he warms our fancy, and exalts our 
mind ; he forms our taste ; and teaches us to dis- 
tinguish what is either fine,, or faulty, in the most 
famous ancient writers. 

B. Is Longinus such a wonderful author? 
Did he not live in the days of Zenobia, and the 
emperor Aurelian ? 

A. Yes ; you cannot but know their history* 

B. Did not those days fall vastly short of the 
'politeness of former ages ? And can you imagine 
that an author who flourished in the declension of 
learning and eloquence had a better taste than Iso* 
crates ? J cannot believe it. 

A. I was surprised myself, to find it so : but 
you need only read hiro, to be convinced of it. 
Though he lived in a very corrupted age, he 
formed his judgment upon the ancient models; 
and has avoided almost all the reigning faults of 
his own time. I say almost all, for, I must own^ 
he studied rather what is admirable, than what is 
useful ; and did not consider eloquence as subser- 
vient to morality ; nor apply it to direct the con* 
duct of life. And in this he does not seem to 
have had such solid views as the ancient Greeks, 
and especially some of their philosophers. But 
we ought to forgive him a failing, for which Iso- 
crates was far more remarkable, though he lived 
in a more refined age. And this defect ought the 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 17 

rather to be overlooked in a particular discourse, 
where Longinus does not treat of what is proper 
to instruct meiij but of what is apt to move and 
seize their passions. I choose to recommend this 
author, sir, because he will help to explain ray 
meaning to you. You will see what a glorious 
character he gives of Demosthenes,* from whom 
he quotes several passages, which are most su- 
blime ; he will likewise shew you those faults of 
Isocrates which I mentioned. If you be unwilling 
to take the trouble of becoming acquainted with 
these authors by reading their works, you may 
get a very just notion of them by consulting Lon* 
ginus. Let us now leave Isocrates, and talk of t 
Demosthenes and Cicero. 

B. You are for leaving Isocrates, because he 
is not for your purpose* 

■ ds tvv&v XctQuv rov T8 fAEyccXoCpveruTX ka) \tt 



axpov ctptrciq awr^r BhtG^ivctq v^/yyo^aq rovov, tpfyvyjx, <n7cc§7) f 
Trepisa-iocv, uy^ivokocv, rccyoq, bvSev ^', xvpiov, rov uTracw 

CCGTgQO-lTQV OciVQT/lO-OC KOcl SvifOLfAlV* IweIcIy) TOLVTU, (pYlUl, Ojq 

SsoTrsfATnot riva, ou^npctrot, (a yocg hweTt §£(aitov uv5 pun ivot) 

U-JpOCC Iq EMVTOV SO-7TGM7S' CkO, TXTQ olq B^El XCcXoTq CCTTCCVrCtq 
UEl VIX.CI, KCCk VET £(9 QJV OVK £p££t, 0JC r '5JZpEI, XOCTCCh pOVTCC X.CCt X.QL- 

rccCpsyyst raq car ctiZvoe pvropaq* -/.oca Sctriov civ rtq y-zpavvoTq 
(pepopevoiq uvrccvoT^ca Toe ofjLfjLOLTa, Svvcaro, n avTo<p9aAjU>jJ-,zi 

ro?q ETrctXTw^oiq ly.eivx 7rd$eo-iv. Longinus, sect. &4. 



IS DIALOGUES 

A. Let us go on then with Isocrates, since you 
are not yet convinced ; and let us judge of his 
rhetoric by the rules of eloquence itself; and by 
the sentiments of Plato, the most eloquent* writer 
among the ancients. Will you be determined by 
him ? 

B. I will be determined by him, if he be in 
the right ; but I never resign my judgment impli- 
citly to any author. 

A. Remember this rule : it is all that I ask of 
you. And if you do not let some fashionable pre- 
judices bias your judgment, reason will soon con- 
vince you of the truth. I would therefore have 
you believe neither Isocrates nor Plato ; but judge 
of them both by clear principles. Now I suppose 
you will grant that the chief end of eloquence is 
to persuade men to embrace truth and virtue. 

* Sed ego neque illis assentiebar, neque harum disputati- 
onum inventori, et principi longe omnium in dicendo gravissi- 
mo, et eloquentissimo Platoni, cujus turn Athenis cum Carne- 
ade diligentius legi Gorgiam : quo in libro, hoc maxime ad- 
mirabar Platonem, quod mihi in oratoribus irridendis, ipse 
esse orator summus videbatur. — Cic. de Orut. lib. i. sect. 11. 

Quid denique Demosthenes? — non illud jusjurandum per 
caesos in Marathone ac Salamine propugnatores reipublica?, 
satis manifesto docet pnuceptorem ejus Platonem fuisse? 
Quem ipsum num Asianum appellabimus plerunque instinctis 
divino spiritu vatibus coinparandum ? 

Quint, lib. xii. cap. 10. See Longinus, sect. 13. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 19 

B. I am not of your mind : this is what I 
have already denied. 

A. I will endeavour to prove it then. Elo- 
quence, if I mistake not, may be considered in 
three respects : as the art of enforcing' truth on 
people's minds, and of making them better ; as an 
art indifferent in itself, which wicked men may 
use as well as good, and which may be applied 
to recommend injustice and error, as well as pro- 
bity and truth ; and, as an art which selfish men 
may use to ingratiate themselves with others, to 
raise their reputation, and make their fortune. 
Which of these ends do you admit of? 

B. I allow them all. What do you infer from 
this concession ? 

A. The inference will afterwards appear. 
Have patience a little; and be satisfied, if I say 
nothing but what is evidently true, till, by gra- 
dual advances, I lead you to the right conclusion. 
Of the three ends of eloquence, which I now men* 
tioned, you will undoubtedly prefer the first. 

B. Yes : it is the best. 

A. What think you of the second ? 

B. I see what you aim at : you are going into 
a fallacy. The second sort is faulty, because of 
the ill use which the orator makes of his elo- 
quence, to enforce error and vice. But still the 
rhetoric of a wicked man may be good in itself, 

c2 



20 DIALOGUES 

though the use he makes of it be pernicious. 
Now we are talking of the nature and rules of elo- 
quence, not of the uses to which it should be ap- 
plied. Let us keep to the true state of the quesr 
tion. 

A. If you will do me the favour to hear me a 
little, you will find that I have the point in dis- 
pute always in view. You seem then to condemn 
the second sort of eloquence ; or, to speak without 
ambiguity, you condemn the abuse of rhetoric* 

B. Right. You now speak correctly. So 
far then we are agreed. 

A. What say you of the third end of elo- 
quence ; I mean the orator's endeavouring to 
please others by talking, that he may raise his 
own reputation or fortune ? 

B. You know my opinion already. I reckon 



* a When I consider the means of happy living," says an 
eloquent writer, " and the causes of their corruption, I can 
" hardly forbear recanting what I said before ; and conclude 
M ing, that eloquence ought to be banished out of all civil so- 
" cieties, as a thing fatal to peace and good manners. To 
" this opinion I should wholly incline, if I did not find, that 
" it is a weapon which may be as easily procured by bad 
" men, as by good : and that if these only should cast it away, 
" and those retain it, the naked innocence of virtue would be, 
u upon all occasions, exposed to the armed malice of thewick- 
" ed."-— Bishop Sprat's Hist, of the Jiot/al Society, p. 111. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. gl 

Such a use of eloquence very fair and allowable ; 
seeing it excites a laudable emulation, and helps 
to improve men's talents. 

A. What kind of talents would you have 
chiefly improved ? Suppose you had some new 
state, or commonwealth, to model, in what kinds 
of knowledge would you have the subjects trained 
up and instructed ? 

B. In every kind that could make them bet- 
ter. I would endeavour to make them good sub- 
jects, peaceable, obedient, and zealous for the 
public welfare. 1 would have them fit to defend 
their country in case of war ; and in peace to ob- 
serve and support the laws ; to govern their fami- 
lies ; cultivate their lands ; train up their children 
to the practice of virtue, and inspire them with a 
strong and just sense of religion. 1 would have 
them carry on such a trade as the state and neces^ 
sities of the country might require, and apply 
themselves to such arts and sciences as are useful 
in common life. These, I think, ought to be the 
chief aims of a lawgiver, 

A. Your views are very just and solid. You 
would have subjects then averse to laziness, and 
employed about such useful things as should tend 
some way or other to advance the public good. 

13. Certainly % 



22 DIALOGUES 

A. And would you exclude all useless profes- 
sions ? 

B. Yes. 

A. You would allow only of such bodily ex- 
ercises as should conduce to people's health and 
strength ? I do not mention the beauty of the 
body ; for that is a natural consequence of health 
and vigour, in bodies which are duly formed. 

B. I would suffer no other exercises. 

A, Would you not, therefore, banish all thos6 
which serve only to amuse people, and cannot ren- 
der them fitter to bear either the constant labours 
and employments of peace, or the fatigues of war ? 

B. Yes; I should follow that rule. 

A. I suppose you would do it for the same 
reason that you would likewise condemn, as you 
already granted, all those exercises of the mind 
which do not conduce to render it more strong, 
sound, and beautiful, by making it more virtu- 
ous. 

B. It is so. What do you infer from that i 
I do not yet see your drift : your windings are 
very long. 

A. Why, I would argue from the plainest 
principles; and not advance the least step, with- 
out carrying light and certainty along with us. 
Answer me then, if you please. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 23 

B. Seeing we laid down the rule you last 
mentioned, for the management of the body ; 
there is certainly greater reason to follow it in the 
conduct and improvement of the mind. 

A. Would you permit such arts as are only 
subservient to pleasure, amusement, and vain cu- 
riosity ; and have no relation either to the duties 
of domestic life, or the common offices of society ? 

B. I would banish all such from my common- 
wealth. 

A. If you allowed of mathematicians then, it 
would be for the sake of mechanics, navigation, 
surveying of land, the fortification of places, and 
such calculations as are useful in practice, &c. 
So that it is the usefulness of the mathematics 
which would recommend them to your patronage. 
And if you tolerated physicians and lawyers, it 
would be for the preservation of health, and the 
support of justice. 

B. Right. 

A. And with the same view of usefulness you 
would admit all other serviceable professions. 

B. Certainly. 

A. But how would you treat the musicians ? 

B. I would encourage them. 

A. Would you not lay them under some 
proper restraint, according to the judgment and 



Qi DIALOGUES 

practice of the ancient Greeks, who always joined 
pleasure and usefulness together ? 

B. Explain yourself a little. 

A. Though they joined music and poetry to- 
gether, and carried both these arts to the greatest 
perfection; they applied them to inspire people's 
minds with fortitude, and noble thoughts. They 
used poetry and music to prepare them for battle ; 
and carried musicians, and their various instru- 
ments, to war. Hence came drums and trumpets, 
which raised in them a spirit of enthusiasm, and a 
sort of fury which they called divine. It was by 
music, and the charms of verse, that they softened 
savage nations i* and, by the same harmony, they 
sweetly instilled wisdom into their children. 
They made them sing Homer's verses to inspire 
their minds with the love of glory, liberty, and 
their native country ; and with a contempt of 
death, and riches, and effeminate pleasure. They 
gave their very dances a grave and serious turn : 
for it is certain they danced not merely for the 
sake of pleasure. We see, by David's example, t 

* Sylvestres homines sacer interpresque deorum 

Caxlibus et victu foedo deterruit Orpheus; 

Dictus ob hoc lenire tigres rabidosque leones. 

IIor. Art. Poet. 
f 2 Sam. vi. 5, 14, 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 25 

that the eastern people reckoned dancing a serious 
kind of employment, like music and poetry. The 
mysterious dances of the priests were adopted by 
the heathens among their ceremonies, on solemn 
festivals, in honour of their gods. There were 
a thousand instructions couched under their po- 
ems and their fables : nay, their most grave and 
austere philosophy always appeared with an air 
of gaiety and good humour. All those arts which 
consisted either in melodious sounds, regular mo- 
tions of the body, or the use of words ; music, 
dancing, eloquence, and poetry, were invented to 
express the passions ; and, by that means, to com- 
municate these passions to others. Thus did they 
endeavour to convey noble sentiments to people's 
minds, and give them lively affecting views of the 
beauty of virtue, and the deformity of vice. So 
that all these arts, under the show of pleasure, fa- 
voured the most serious designs of the ancients ; 
and were used to promote morality and religion. 
Even the diversion of hunting was encouraged, to 
train up the youth for war. Their strongest plea- 
sures contained always some solid instruction. 
From which source flowed those many heroic vir- 
tues in Greece, which all ages have since admired. 
It is true, this first kind of instruction was after- 
wards changed; and of itself was accompanied 
with remarkable defects. The chief fault of it 



26 DIALOGUES 

was, its being founded on a false and pernicious 
scheme of religion : in which the Greeks, and all 
the ancient sages of the heathen world, were 
strangely deceived ; being plunged into gross idol- 
atry. But notwithstanding this fundamental mis- 
take, they chose a very proper way of inspiring 
men with religion and virtue : their method was 
wise, agreeable, and apt to make a lively, lasting 
impression. 

C. You said that this first institution was af- 
terwards changed : pray, how did it happen ? 

A- Though virtue gives men the true polite- 
ness; if great care be not taken, politeness gradu- 
ally degenerates into an unmanly softness. The 
Asiatic Greeks fell first into this corruption. The 
Ionians grew effeminate ; and all that coast of Asia 
was a theatre of luxury. The Cretans too became 
corrupted, notwithstanding the wise laws of Minos. 
You know the verse which St. Paul quotes from 
one of their own poets.* Corinth was remarkable 
for its excessive riot and dissoluteness. The Ro- 
mans, as yet unpolished, began to fall into such 
practices as quite relaxed their rustic virtue. 
Alliens was not free from the general contagion 
with which Greece was all over infected. Plea- 

* Kp*?T£$ cUi \tv<rou 9 kukoc Qrjgicc, yotfEgss u^yoci. 

Tit. i. 12. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 27 

sure, which was used at first as the means to con- 
vey wisdom into the mind of the people, usurped 
the place of wisdom itself: and in vain did the 
philosophers remonstrate against this disorder. 
Socrates arose, and shewed his deluded fellow- 
citizens, that the pleasure, about which they were 
entirely employed, ought only to be used as the 
vehicle of wisdom, and an incentive to virtue, 
Plato, his disciple, (who was not ashamed to com- 
pose his dialogues on the plan and subject of his 
master's discourses,) banished from his republic 
all such musical notes, scenes of tragedy, and po- 
etical compositions, (even such parts of Homer 
himself,) as did not incline people to love order 
and wise laws. This, sir, was the judgment of 
Socrates and Plato, concerning poets and musici- 
ans : do you approve of it ? 

B. I am entirely of their mind; and would 
allow of nothing that is useless. Since we may 
find pleasure enough in solid and valuable things, 
we ought not to seek for it elsewhere. In order 
to recommend virtue to men's esteem and practice, 
we must shew them that it is consistent with plea- 
sure : and, on the contrary, if we separate pleasure 
from virtue, people will be strongly tempted to 
forsake a virtuous course. Besides, that which 
gives pleasure only, without instruction, can at 



28 DIALOGUES 

best but amuse and soften the mind. Do not you 
see, sir, how much a philosopher I am become, 
by hearing you? But let us go on to the end; 
for we are not yet perfectly agreed. 

A. I hope we shall be very quickly. And 
since you are grown so much a philosopher, give 
ine leave to ask you one question more. We have 
obliged musicians and poets to employ their art 
only for promoting virtue ; and the subjects of 
your new republic are debarred from all such 
spectacles as can only please and not instruct 
them. But what would you do with conjurors? 

B. They are impostors, who ought to be ba- 
nished from all societies, 

A. They do no harm. You cannot think they 
are sorcerers : so that you have no reason to be 
afraid of their practising any diabolical art. 

B. No, I do not fear that : nor should I give 
the least credit to any of their senseless stories. 
But they do harm enough by amusing the common 
people. I will not suffer such idle persons in my 
commonwealth, as divert others from their busi- 
ness, and have no other employment but to amuse 
people with foolish talk. 

A. But, perhaps, they get a livelihood that 
w&y, and lay up wealth for themselves and their 
families. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE, 29 

B. No matter: they must find out some ho- 
nest way of living. It is not enough that they 
seek a livelihood : they must gain it by some em- 
ployment which may be useful to the public. I 
say the same of all those strolling vagabonds who 
amuse crowds with silly prattle and foolish songs ; 
for though they should never lie, nor say any 
thing immodest, their being useless to the public 
is guilt enough. So that they ought either to be 
excluded from the society, or compelled to follow 
some useful occupation.* 

A. Would you not at least tolerate tragedians, 
provided they represent no scenes of immodesty 
or extravagant love ? I do not ask you this ques- 
tion as a Christian : answer only as a lawgiver and 
a philosopher. 

B. If tragedies did not conduce to instruction 
as well as to pleasure, I should condemn them. 

A. Right. In that you are exactly of Plato's 
opinion : for he would not allow of any poems or 
tragedies in his republic, which should not first be 
examined by the guardians of the laws : that so the 
people might neither hear nor see any tiling but 
what should tend to strengthen the laws, and pro- 

* It were well if the police of London were regulated ac- 
cording to this hint. Editor* 



30 DIALOGUES 

mote virtue. In this you likewise fall in with the 
sentiments of other ancient authors, who judged 
that tragedy ought to turn chiefly upon two pas- 
sions ; either the terror arising from a view of the 
fatal effects of vice ; or that compassion which ac- 
companies the representation of an oppressed and 
steady virtue. Sophocles and Euripides wrote 
with these views, and always endeavoured to ex- 
cite either pity or terrror. 

B. I remember I have met with this last rule 
in Mr. Boileau's Art of Poetry. 

A. You are right. He is a man who knows 
perfectly well not only the foundation of poetry, 
but likewise the solid aim to which philosophy, 
superior to all arts, ought to direct the poet. 

B. But whither are you leading me all this 
while ? 

A* I lead you no farther : you guide yourself 
how ; and are happily come to the conclusion J 
first proposed. Have you not said, that in your 
republic you would not suffer idle people who 
amuse others, and have no other business but 
merely to talk ? Is it not upon this principle that 
you would exclude all such tragedies as do not 
convey instruction as well as pleasure ? Now, 
will you suffer that to be done in prose, which 
you will not tolerate in verse ? After such a just 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 31 

rigour against useless poetry, how can you shew 
any favour to those declaimers who talk only to 
shew their parts ?* 

B. But these orators, of whom we were speak- 
ing, have two designs which are commendable, 

A. What are they ? 

B. The first is to maintain themselves: for 
by their profession they procure a subsistence. 
Their rhetoric gets them repute ; and this brings 
along with it that wealth of which they stand 
in need. 

* " Who can behold, without indignation, how many 
u mists and uncertainties these specious tropes and figures 
" have brought on our knowledge? How many rewards, 
" which are due to more profitable and difficult arts, have 
" been still snatched away by the easy vanity of fine speak- 
" ing ! For now I am warmed with this just anger, T cannot 
" withhold myself from betraying the shallowness of all those 
" seeming mysteries, upon which we writers and speakers 
" look so big. And, in few words, I dare say> that of all the 
u studies of men, nothing may be sooner obtained, than this 
" vicious abundance of phrase, this trick of metaphors, this 
" volubility of tongue, which makes so great noise in the 
" world. But I spend words in vain ; for the evil is now so 
" inveterate, that it is hard to know whom to blame, or 
" where to begin to reform. We all Value one another so 
" much upon this beautiful deceit, and labour so long after 
" it, in the years of our education, that we cannot but ever 
" after think kinder of it than it deserves/* 

Bishop Sprat's Hist, of the Royal Society, p. 112. 



32 DIALOGUES 

A* You yourself have already answered tliis 
pretence ; for, did you not say that it is not 
enough that one gains a livelihood, unless he get 
it by some employment which is useful to the 
public ? He who should represent tragedies which 
gave no instruction, might get his bread by them : 
but this would not hinder you from driving him 
out of your commonwealth. You would say to 
him, " Go, choose some regular, useful employ* 
u ment, and do not divert your neighbours from 
6C their business* If you would have a lawful 
c ? gain from them, apply yourself to do them 
" some real service ; or to make them more wise 
" and virtuous.' 7 Now, why should you not say 
the same to the rhetoricians ? 

B. But I have a second reason to offer for to- 
lerating them. 

A. Pray let us hear it. 

B. Why, the orator serves the public. 

A. In what ? 

B. He improves the people's mind, and teach- 
es them eloquence. 

A. Suppose I should invent some fantastic art, 
or imaginary language, which could be of no use ; 
would I serve the public by teaching such a sense- 
less language, or silly art ? 

B. No : because one cannot serve others as a 
master, unless lie could teach them something useful* 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. S3 

* A. You cannot prove, then, that an Qrator 
serves the public, by teaching eloquence, unless you 
could first shew that it is a useful art. Of what 
use are a man's fine thoughts, if they do not ad- 
vance the public good ? I am very sensible that 
they are advantageous to himself; for they dazzle 
his hearers ; who have so bad a taste, that they 
will applaud his skill, and even reward him for 
his useless talk. But ought you to suffer such a 
mercenary fruitless eloquence in that government 
which you have to model ? A shoemaker is ser- 
viceable in his way, and maintains his family with 
what lie gains by supplying other people's neces- 
sities. So that you see the most ordinary employ- 
ments tend to some useful purpose : and there is 
no other art but the rhetorician's, which serves 
only to amuse people with talking. In fine, such 
eloquence can only, on the one hand, satisfy the 
vain curiosity of the hearers, and encourage their 
idleness ; and, on the other, gratify the declaimer's 
pride and ambition. But for the honour of your 
republic, sir, do not tolerate such an abuse. 

B. I must grant that an orator's aim should be 
to make people more wise and virtuous. 

A. Do not forget this ; you shall see the con- 
sequences of it by and bye. 

B. Notwithstanding this concession, lie who is 
employed in instructing others, may, at the same 

D 



j§4 DIALOGUES 

time> endeavour to acquire reputation and wealth 
for himself. 

A. I told you before, that we are not now 
handling the point as Christians : I need only use 
philosophy against you. Let me put you in mind, 
that you grant an orator is obliged to instruct 
others with a design to improve them in virtue. 
Thus we get rid of all useless declaimers. We 
ought not even to suffer panegyrists any farther 
than they render true wisdom and probity more 
amiable by their praises ; and propose such mo* 
dels of virtue* and valour as are worthy of imi- 
tation. 

B. What then, is a panegyric good for no* 
thing, unless it be full of morality ? 

A. Have you not granted this already ? In- 
struction is the proper end of speech : and the 
only good reason for praising any hero is, that 
you may represent his worth to others, in order to 
excite their emulation ; and to shew them that 
virtue and true glory are inseparable. Therefore 

* Perspicuum est igituf alia esse in homine optanda, alia 
laudanda. Genus, forma, vires, opes, divitia^, ceteraque qu;p 
fortuna det, aut extrinsecus, aut corpori, non habent in se ve- 
rarn laudem, quae deberi virtuti uni putatur. — Virtus autem 
qua? est per se ipsa laudabilis, et sine qua nihil laudari potest, 
tamen habet plures partes, quarum alia est ad laudationem 
jiptior. Cic. dc Or at. lib. ii. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. S3 

a panegyric should be kept free from all general, 
excessive, flattering praises ; and such barren 
thoughts as do not afford the least instruction. 
Every thing should tend to make the hearers in 
love with what is truly great and good. But we 
find that most panegyrists seem to magnify parti- 
cular virtues, only that they may the more effec- 
tually praise those who practised them, and set off 
their heroes to greater advantage. When they 
have any one to praise, they exalt his peculiar 
virtues far above kl\ others. But every thing has 
its turn ; and, on another occasion, those very 
qualities, which they preferred before, must now 
give place to some other virtues, which come in 
course to be extolled to the highest pitch. Irt 
this respect, I think Pliny is to be blamed. If 
he had praised Trajan as a fit model for other he- 
roes to copy after, this would have been a design 
worthy of an orator. But the praise of that prince, 
however deserving he was, ought not to have been 
Pliny's chief aim. Trajan should only have been 
proposed to mankind as an imitable example, to 
allure them to virtue* When a panegyrist lias 
such a mean view, as to praise the person, rather 
than the virtues which render him conspicuous, 
this is only flattery addressed to pride. 

B. What think you then of those poems, 
which were made in praise of ancient heroes ? 

»2 



& 



36 DIALOGUES 

Homer has his Achilles; and Virgil, his iEneas. 
Will you condemn these two poets? 

A. By no means, sir: do but examine the 
design of their works. In the Iliad, Achilles is the 
chief hero ; but his praise is not the main end of 
the poem. His character is faithfully drawn with 
all its defects :* nay, these very defects are a part 
of that instruction which the poet designed to con- 
vey to posterity. The great design t of this work 
was to inspire the Greeks with the love of warlike 
glory ; and a dread of discord, as the greatest ob- 
stacle to success. This moral instruction is plain- 
ly interwoven throughout the poem, The Odys- 
sey, indeed, represents, in Ulysses, J a hero more 
regular, and more accomplished : but this is still 
natural. For, of course, a man like Ulysses, 

* Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer : 

Jura negat sibi nata : nihil non arrogat armis. 

Hor, de Art. Poet. 

f Trojani belli scriptorem, maxime Lolli, 
Dum tu declamas Romae, Prseneste relegi : 
Qui, quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non, 
Plenius ac melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit. 
Fabula qua Paridis propter narratur amorem, 
Stultorum regum et populorum continet aestus. 

Hon. Epist. lib. i. ep. 2. 

J Rursus quid virtus, et quid sapientia possit, 
Utile proposuit nobis exemplar Ulyssem. Ibid. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 37 

whose chief character is wisdom, must be more 
wary, and uniform in his conduct, than such a 
rough, warm, forward youth as Achilles. So that 
in drawing both these heroes, Homer seems only 
to have copied nature. In fine, throughout the 
Odyssey, we find innumerable instructions for the 
whole conduct of life ; and one cannot but ob- 
serve that the poet's design, in describing a pru- 
dent man, whose wisdom makes him always suc- 
cessful, was to shew posterity what good effects 
might be expected from prudent piety and a re- 
gular life. Virgil, in his /Eneid, has imitated the 
Odyssey in his hero's character;* and has drawn 
him brave, moderate, pious, and steady. But it is 
evident that the praise of .Eneas was not the poet's 
principal aim, That hero was designed to repre- 
sent the Roman people, + who descended from 
him : and Virgil meant to shew them that their 
extraction was divine ; that the gods had destined 
them to govern the world : and, by this, he ani- 
mated them to the practice of such heroic virtues 
as might support the glory designed for them. 

* Rex erat iEneas nobis, quo justior alter 

Nee pietate fuit, nee bello major et armis. 
f Nunc age, Dardaniam prolem qure deinde seqiwtur 

Gloria, qui maneant Itala de gente JNepotes, 

Illustres animas, nostrumque in nomen it'uras, 

Expediam dictis, et te tua lata docebo. 



38 DIALOGUES 

Now, a heathen could not possibly devise a no- 
bler moral than this. The only fault of which 
Virgil can be suspected, is his having had his pri- 
vate interest too much in view ; and turning his 
excellent poem to the praise of Augustus,* and 
his family, with too great an air of flattery. But 
we ought not to criticise any author too se- 
verely, 

B, But will you not allow a poet, or an ora- 
tor, to seek his fortune in au honourable way ? 

A. After this useful digression, concerning pa- 
negyrics, we now return to the difficulty you pro- 
posed. The question is, whether an orator ought 
to be entirely disinterested J 

* Hue, geminas hue fiecte acies; banc aspice gentem 
Romanesque tuos. Hie Caesar, et omnis Iuli 
Progenies magnum coeli ventura sub axem. 
Hie vir, hie est tibi quern promitti saepius audis 
Augustus Caesar, clivi genus : aurea condet 
Saecula qui rursus Latio, regnata per arva 

Saturno quondam : 

Excudent alii spirantia mollius sera. 
Credo equidem, vivos ducent de marmore vultus ; 
Orabunt causas melius: ceelique meatus 
Describent radio; et surgentia sidera dicent: 
Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento : 
Hae tibi erunt artes; pacisque imponere morem ; 
Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos. 

/Eneid. lib. vi. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 39 

B. I do not think that he ought : for this 
would overturn the most common maxims. 

A. In your republic, would you not have ora- 
tors obliged to the strictest rules of truth ? Do not 
you own that they ought never to speak in public, 
but in order to instruct people, to reform theiy con^ 
duct, and strengthen the laws ? 

B. Yes, 

A. An orator then should have nothing either 
to hope or fear from his hearers, with regard to 
his own interest. If you allowed of ambitious, 
mercenary declaimers,* do you think they would 
oppose all the foolish unruly passions of men ? If 
they themselves be subject to avarice, ambition, 
luxury, and such shameful disorders, will they be 
able to cure others? If they seek after wealth, 
can they be fit to disengage others from that mean 
pursuit ? I grant, that a virtuous and disinterested 
orator ought always to be supplied with the con- 
veniencies of life : nor can he ever want them, if 

* Jam hoc quis non videt, maximam partem orationis iix 
tractatu a?qui bonique consistere ? Dicetne de his secundmr* 
debitam rerum dignitatem malus atque iniquus? Denique — \ 
demus id quod nullo modo fieri potest, idem ingenii, studii, 
doctrinae, pessimo, atque optimo viro, uter melior dicetur 
orator? Nimirum qui homo quoque melior. I\o.u i^itur uii- 
fjuani malus idem homo, el perfectus orator. 

Quint. Ub. xii. cap. 1. 



40 DIALOGUES 

he be a true philosopher ; I mean, such a wise 
and worthy person as is fit to reform the manners 
of men : for then he will live after a plain, modest, 
frugal, laborious manner : he will have occasion 
only for little ; and that little he will never want, 
though he should earn it with his own hands. 
Now, what is superfluous ought not to be offered 
him as the recompense of his public services : 
and indeed it is not worthy of his acceptance. 
He may have honour and authority conferred on 
him : but if he be master of his passions, as we 
suppose, and above selfish views, he will use this 
authority only for the public good ; and be ready 
to resign it, when he can no longer enjoy it with- 
out flatterv or dissimulation. In short, an orator 
cannot be fit to persuade people, unless he be in- 
flexibly upright : for, without this steady virtue, 
his talents and address would, like a mortal poi- 
son, infect and destroy the body politic. For this 
reason, Cicero* thought that virtue is the chief 

* Est enim eloquentia una quaedam de summis virtuttbus 
— quae quo major est vis, hoc est magis probitate juugenda, 
summaque prudentia ; quarura virtutum expertibus si dicendi 
copiam tradiderimus, non eos quidem oratores effecerimus ; 
sed furentibus quaedam arma dederimus. 

De Orat. lib. iii. sect. 14. 

Sit ergo nobis orator quern instituinius is, qui a M. Cice- 
rone finitur, vir bonus dicendi peritus — Adde quod ne studio 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 41 

and most essential quality of an orator ; and that 
lie should be a person of such unspotted probity, 
as to be a pattern to his fellow-citizens ; without 
which he cannot even seem to be convinced him* 
self of what he says ; and, consequently, he can- 
not persuade others. 

B. I am sensible that there is a great deal of 
weight in what you say : but, after all, may not a 
man fairly employ his talents to raise himself in 
the world ? 

A. Let us look back always to the principles 
we laid down. We have agreed that eloquence, 
and the profession of an orator, should be devoted 
to the instruction of people, and the reformation 
of their practice. Now, to do this with freedom 
and success, a man must be disinterested ; and 
must teach others to contemn death, and riches, 
and unmanly pleasure : he must infuse into their 
minds the love of moderation, frugality, a gene- 
rous concern for the public good, and an inviolable 
regard to the laws and constitution : and the ora- 

quidem operis pulclicrrimi vacare mens, nisi omnibus vitiis 
libera, potest — Quid putamus tacturas cupiditatem, avaritiam, 
invidiam ? quarum impotentissimae cogitationes, somnos etiam 
ipsos, et ilia per quictetn visa, perturbent. Nihil est enini 
tarn occupatum, tain multiforme, tot ac tain variis affectibus 
concisum atque laceration, quam mala mens. 



42 DIALOGUES 

tor's zeal for all these must appear in his conduct 
as well as in his discourses. But will he who 
strives to please others, that he may make his for-? 
tune ; and who therefore avoids disobliging any- 
body ; I say, will such an artful selfish person 
inculcate unacceptable truths with boldness and 
authority ? or, if he should, will any one believe 
a man who does not seem to believe himself? 

B. But, supposing him to be in narrow cir- 
cumstances, he does no harm, I hope, by endea- 
vouring to improve them^ 

A. If he be pinched, let him try to mend his 
condition some other way. There are other pro- 
fessions which will easily set him above want. 
But if he be in such extreme distress as to depend 
on relief from the public^ he is not yet fit to be an 
orator. Would you choose men who are indi- 
gent, and almost starving, to be judges in your 
commonwealth ? Would you not be afraid that 
their wants might expose them to corruption, or 
betray them into some dishonourable compliance ? 
Would you not rather choose persons of note and 
distinction, who are above necessity, and out of 
the reach of its temptations ? 

B. I believe I should. 

A. Tor the same reason, if you wanted ora- 
tors, that is, public masters to instruct, reclaim, 
and form the minds and manners of the people^ 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 45 

would you not choose such men as wanted no- 
thing, and are far above little selfish aims ? And 
if there were others who had proper talents for 
this superior office, but were clogged with their 
personal concerns, and narrow views of private 
interests ; would you not excise them from shew- 
ing their eloquence till they were more easy and 
disengaged in their circumstances, and could 
speak in public without being suspected of any 
mean design ? 

B. It would be better. But does not the ex- 
perience cf our own age plainly shew, that an 
orator may make his fortune by preaching rigid 
virtue with great vehemence ? Where can wo 
find keener satires against the prevailing corrup- 
tions of the age, and severer moral characters, 
than those which come from the pulpit ? Yet 
people are not disturbed at them; nay, they are 
pleased with them ; and the ingenious preacher 
gets preferment by them. 

A. It is very true : but moral instructions 
have no weight nor influence, when they are 
neither supported by clear principles, nor good 
examples. Whom do you see converted by 
them ? People are accustomed to hear such ha- 
rangues ; and are amused by them, as with so 
many fine scenes passing before their eyes. They 
hearken to such lectures just as they would read 



44 DIALOGUES 

a satire ; and they look on the speaker as one 
that acts his part well. They believe his life 
more than his talk 5* and when they know him to 



* (c The clergy have one great advantage beyond all the 
" rest of the world in this respect, besides all others, tha 
" whereas the particular callings of other men prove to then 
" great distractions, and lay many temptations in their way, 
" to divert them from minding their high and holy calling* 
a of being Christians ; it is quite otherwise with the clergy : 
H the more they follow their proper callings, they do the more 
u certainly advance their general one : the better priests they 
" are, they become also the better Christians. Every part of 
" their calling, when well performed, raises good thoughts, and 
" brings good ideas into their minds ; and tends both to in- 
" crease their knowledge, and quicken their sense of divine 
" matters. A priest, therefore, is more accountable to God, 
" and the world, for his deportment, and will be more severe- 
" ly accounted with, than any other person whatsoever. He 
" is more watched over and observed than all others. Very 
" good men will be, even to a censure, jealous of him: very 
u bad men will wait for his halting, and insult upon it : and 
" all sorts of persons will be willing to defend themselves 
" against the authority of his doctrine and admonitions, by 
" this, ' He says, but does not'— the world will reverse this 
" quite, and consider rather how a clerk lives, than what he 
" says. They see the one ; and from it conclude what he 
" himself thinks of the other: and will think themselves not 
" a little justified, if they can say that they did no worse than 
" they saw their minister do before them. Therefore a priest 
u must not only abstain from gross scandals, but keep at the 
" farthest distance from them.— Such diversions as Uis health, 



ie 

: 

7. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 45 

be selfish, ambitious, vain, given up to sloth and 
luxury; and see that he parts with none of those 
enjoyments which he exhorts others to forsake : 
though, for the sake of custom and ceremony, 
they hear him declaim, they believe and act as 
he does. But, what is worst of all, people are too 
apt to conclude, that men of this profession do not 
believe what they teach : this disparages their func- 
tion : and when others preach with a sincere zeal, 
people will scarce believe this zeal to be sincere. 

B. I cannot but own that your notions hang 
well together, and that they are very convincing 
when one considers them attentively. But tell 
me freely, does not all you have said on this sub- 
ject flow from a pure zeal for Christian piety ? 

A. No : if an unbeliever reason justly, he 
must fall into the same train of thoughts : but in* 

t or the temper of his mind, may render proper for him, 
" ought to be manly, decent, and grave ; and such as may 
" neither possess his mind or time too much, nor give a bad 
" character of him to his people. He must also avoid too 
" much familiarity with bad people, and the squandering away 
** his time in too much vain and idle discourse. His cheerful- 
" ness ought to be frank ; but neither excessive nor licentious. 
" His friends and his garden ought to be his chief diversions ; 
" as his study and his parish ought to be his chief employ- 
" ments. — " 

Bishop Burnet's Discourse of the Fast. Care, c. viii. 



46 DIALOGUES 

deed one must have a Christian spirit to act up to 
tliem; for, it is grace alone which can suppress 
the disorderly emotions of self-love. When I 
pressed you with the authority of Socrates and 
Plato, you would not resign your judgment to 
their's : and now, since reason itself begins to 
Convince you, and that I need not enforce the 
truth from authorities, what if I should shew you, 
after all, that I have only used their arguments 
on this subject ? 

B. Is it possible ? I should be very glad of it. 

A. Well, then : Plato introduces Socrates dis- 
Coursing with Gorgias, a famous rhetorician, and 
Callicles, one of his disciples. This Gorgias was 
master to Isocrates; and, as Tully tells us, was 
the first man who boasted of his being able to talk 
eloquently on every thing : in which ridiculous 
vanity he was afterwards imitated by other Greek 
declaimerSi These two men, Gorgias and Cal- 
licles, harangued plausibly enough on every sub- 
ject; being wits who shone in conversation, and 
had no other business but to talk finely. How- 
ever, they wanted what Socrates wished every 
man to have ;* solid principles of morality > and a 

* Invent! sunt qui, cum ipsi doctrina, et ingeniis 

kbundarent, a re autem civili et negotiis, animi quodam judi- 
cio abhorrerent, banc dicendi exercitationem exagitarent, at- 
que contemnerenti Quorum princeps Socrates fttit, is gui oca* 



Concerning eloquence. 4? 

Sedate^ just way of reasoning. Plato> therefore, 
having shewn what a ridiculous turn of mind these 
men had, represents Socrates as diverting himself 
with their folly, and facetiously puzzling the two 
orators so much, that they could not tell him what 
eloquence is. Then he proves that rhetoric, 
which was the profession of these declaimersj is 
not truly an art : for^ according to him, " an art 
iQ is a regular discipline, which teaches men to 
iC do something which will help to make them 
u wiser or better than they are." So that he 
allows of no other arts but the liberal ones : and 
he shews that even these are perverted^ when 
they are applied to any other end besides training 
up men to virtue. He proves that this was not 
the aim of ihe rhetoricians : that even Themis-* 
tocles and Pericles had quite other views ; and 
that, therefore, they were not truly orators. He 
saj r s, that those famous men only persuaded the 
Athenians to make harbours, and build walls, and 
obtain victories : they only made their citizens 
wealthy, warlike, and powerful ; and were after- 
mum eruditorum testimonio, totiusque judicio Grxcix, Cum 
prudentia, et acumine, et venustate, et subtilitate, turn vem 
eloquentia, varietate, copia, quamcumque in partem dedisset, 
omnium fuit facile princess cujus ingenium variosque sermo 
nes immortalitati scriptis suis Plato tradidit. 

Cic. de Orat> lib. i. sect* 16. 



48 DIALOGUES 

wards ill-treated for it ; which was really no more 
than they might have expected. If they had Ten- 
dered the people good and virtuous by their rhe- 
toric;, they would have been sure of a just recom- 
pense : for he who makes men upright and good, 
tannot lose the reward of his labour ; seeing virtue 
and ingratitude are inconsistent, I need not tell 
you all the arguments he uses to shew how useless 
such false rhetoric is t for^ all that I have said 
hitherto on this point, in my own name, is really 
taken from him. It will be more proper to repre- 
sent to you what he says of the evils, which these 
vain haranguers occasion in the republic. 

B. It is evident that such rhetoricians were 
dangerous in the Grecian commonwealths ; where 
they could mislead the people, and usurp the 
government. 

A. That is the chief danger which Socrates 
apprehended from them. But the principles he 
lays down, on this occasion, reach a great deal 
further. In fine, though you and I speak now of 
ordering a commonwealth, our enquiry and con- 
clusions are not applicable to democracy alone ; 
but to every kind of government, whether it be 
strictly a republic, an aristocracy, or a monarchy. 
So that the particular form of government does not 
enter into the present question : for in all countries 
the rules of Socrates are equally useful. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 49 

C. I wish you would explain them to us. 

A. He says, that since a man is composed of 
a mind and body, he ought to improve them both. 
Now, there are two arts which concern the mindj 
and two others relating to the body. The two be- 
longing to the mind, are mdral philosophy, and 
the knowledge of the national laws. Under the 
head of moral philosophy he comprehends the 
laws of nature and nations; and all these dictates 
of philosophy which are proper to govern the in- 
clinations and manners of the whole republicj as 
well as of every individual member of it. He 
considered the second art as a remedy which 
should be used to suppress falsehood, injustice^ 
and the like disorders:, among the citizens : for 
by it law-suits are determined^ and crimes tire 
punished. So that moral philosophy serves to pre- 
vent evil ; and the knowledge of the laws and 
constitution, to punish it. There are likewise two 
arts for managing the body; the gymnastic artj 
which, by due exercise and temperance, renders 
it healthy, active*, vigorous, and graceful ; (for 
you know, sir, the ancients made a wonderful use 
of this art, which we have now quite lost;) and 
the knowledge of physic, which cures the body 
when its health is lost or impaired. The gym- 
nastic art assists the body, as moral philosophy 
doth the soul: namely, to form and improve it* 



50 DIALOGUES 

and skill in medicine is helpful to the f>ody, ti& 
the knowledge of the laws is to the mind, for cor* 
recting and curing disorders. But this wise in- 
stitution was altered, says Socrates : instead of a 
solid, practical philosophy, we have only the vain 
subtlety of wrangling sophists ; a set of spurious 
philosophers, who abuse reason j and, having no 
sense of public good, aim only at promoting their 
own selfish ends. Instead of attaining a thorough 
insight into the national laws, people are amused 
and misled by vain-glorious ostentation of these 
rhetoricians, who endeavour only to please and 
dazzle the mind. And instead of recommending 
the knowledge of the public constitution, and the 
administration of justice, (which being the medi- 
cine of the soul, should be applied to cure its 
disorderly passions,) these false orators think of 
nothing but how to spread their own reputation. 
And with regard to the body, says Socrates, the 
gymnastic art begins to be exchanged for skill in 
dress, which gives the body but false, deceitful 
ornaments : whereas we ought to desire only such 
;a natural comeliness as results from health of 
body, and due proportion of its members ; which 
must be acquired and preserved by temperance 
and exercise. The proper and seasonable use of 
medicine is likewise laid aside to make room for 
delicious dishes, and such palatable things as raise 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. $1 

and eirsnare the appetite. And instead of carry- 
ing off gross humours from the body^ by proper 
evacuations^ to restore its health ; nature is clog* 
ged and overcharged ; and a false appetite is 
excited by all the various ways of luxury and in- 
temperance. Tie farther observes, that those ora- 
tors, who) in order to cure men^. should have given 
them bitter physic, and with authority have incul- 
cated the most disagreeable truths ; have, on the 
contrary, done for the mind what cooks do for the 
body : their rhetoric is only an art of dressing up 
delicacies to gratify the corrupted taste of the 
people. All their concern is to please and soothe 
them; by raising their curiosity and admirations 
for these declaimers harangue only for themselves. 
He concludes his remarks with asking, where are 
those citizens whom the rhetoricians have cured 
of their vicious habits? whom have they made 
sober and virtuous ?— -Thus Socrates describes the 
general disorders and corruption of manners which 
prevailed in his time. But does he not talk like 
one of the present age,* who observes what passes 

* i " The ornaments of speaking are much dege- 

" nerated from their original usefulness. They were at first, 
V no doubt, an admirable instrument in the hands of wise 
" men, when they were only employed to describe goodness, 
H honesty, obedience ; in larger, fairer, and more moving 

^5 



5g DIALOGUES 

among us ; and speaks of the abuses winch pi&* 
vail in our own days ? Now you have heard the? 
sentiments of this wise heathen ; what do you say 
of that eloquence which tends only to please, and 
give pretty descriptions; when^ as he says, we 
Dught to cauterize^ and cut to the quick ; and 
earnestly endeavour to cure people's minds by 
the bitterness of remedies, and the severity of art 
abstemious diet ? I appeal to your own judgment 
in this case i if you were sick, would you be 
pleased with a physician $ who^ in the extremity 
of your illness^ should waste his time$ and amuse 
you with explaining to you some fine hypothesis 
in an elegant stile ; instead of making pertinent 
enquiries into the cause and symptoms of your 
distemper, and prescribing suitable remedies? 
Or, in a trial at law, where your estate or your 

*/ images | to represent truth clothed with bodies ; and to 
" bring knowledge back again to our very senses, whence it 
" was at first derived to our understanding. But now they 
" are generally changed to worse uses : they make the fancy 
ic cfisgust the best things, if they come sound and unadorned': 
" they are in open defiance against reason ; professing not to 
* c hold much correspondence with that, but with its slaves, 
" the passions: they give the mind a motion too changeable 
& and bewitching, to consist with right practice." 

Bishop Sprat's Hist, of the Royal Society, p. ill, 112o 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 53 

life were at stake ; what would you think of your 
lawyer, if he should play the wit in your defence, 
and fill his pleading with flowers of rhetoric and 
quaint turns, instead of arguing with gravity, 
strength of reason, and earnestness to gain your 
cause ? Our natural love of life and well-being 
shews us plainly the absurdity of fake oratory, 
and of the unseasonable ostentation of it, in such 
cases as I have now mentioned : but we are so 
strangely unconcerned about religion, and the 
moral conduct of life, that we do not observe the 
same ridicule in careless, vain-glorious orators ; 
who yet ought to be the spiritual physicians and 
censors of the people. Indeed the sentiment^ 
of Socrates on this subject ought to niake us 
ashamed. 

B. I perceive clearly enough, that, according 
to your reasoning, orators ought to be the defend- 
ers of the laws, and instructors of the people, to 
teach them true wisdom and virtue, But among 
the Romans the rhetoric of the bar was otherwise 
employed. 

A. That was certainly the end of it. For, 
when orators had not occasion to represent, in 
their discourses, the general wants of the repub- 
lic ; they were obliged to protect innocence, and 
tjie rights of particular persons. And it was on 
this account that their profession was so much 



54 DIALOGUES 

honoured, and that Tully gives us such a high 
character of a true orator.^ 

B. Let us hear, then, how orators ought to 
speak. I long to know your thoughts on this 
point; since you decry the finical, florid manner 
of Isocrates, which is so much admired and imi- 
tated by others, 

A. Instead of giving you my own opinion, I 
shall go on to lay before you the rules which the 
ancients give us : but I shall only touch upon the 
chief points ; for I suppose you do not expect 
that I should enter into an endless detail of the 
precepts of rhetoric. There are but too many 
useless qnes 5 which you must have read in those 

* Neque vero mihi quidquam praestabilius videtur, quam 
posse dicendo tenere hominum ccetus, mentes allicere, volun« 
tates cQiipelltTG quo velit; unde autum velit, deducere. Haec 
una res in omni libero populo, maximeque in pacatis tranquil* 
lisque ciyitatibus praecipue semper floruit, semperque domi- 
nata est, Quid enim est aut tain admirabile, quam ex infinita 
multitudine bqminum existere unum, qui id quod omnibus 
natura sit datum, yel solus, vel cum paueis facere possit ? — 
aut tarn potens, tamque magnificum, quam populi motus, ju- 
dicum religiones, senatus gravitatem, unius oratione converti ? 
■■ - ac ne plura, quae sunt pene innumerabilia, consecter, 
comprebendam brevi ; sic enim statuo, perf'ecti oratoris mo-, 
deratione, et sapientia, non solum ipsius dignitatem, sed et 
privatorum piurimorum, et universe reipubiicae salutem maxi* 
Die coritiueri- Cic. de Or at. lib. i. sect. 8. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 55 

books where they are copiously explained. It 
will be enough if we consider the most important 
rules. Plato, in his Phaedrus, shews us, that the 
greatest fault of rhetoricians is their studying the 
art of persuasion before they have learned, from 
the principles of true philosophy, what those 
things are of which they ought to persuade men. 
He would have orators begin with the study of 
mankind in general; and then apply themselves 
to the knowledge of the particular genius and 
manners of those, whom they may have occasion 
to instruct and persuade. So that they ought 
first of all to know the nature of man, his chief 
end, and his true interest ; the parts of which he 
is composed, his mind and his body, and the true 
way to make him happy. They ought likewise 
to understand his passions, the disorders to which 
they are subject, and the art of governing them ; 
how they may be usefully raised, and employed 
on what is truly good ; and, in fine, the proper 
rules to make him live in peace, and become en- 
tirely sociable. After this general study, comes 
that which is particular. Orators ought to know 
the laws and customs of their country, and how 
far they are agreeable to the genius and temper 
of the people ; what are the manners of the seve- 
ral ranks and conditions among them ; their dif- 
ferent ways of education; the common prejudices 



66 " DIALOGUES 

and separate interests which prevail in the present 
age ; and the most proper way to instruct and re- 
form the people. You see, sir, this knowledge 
comprehends all the solid parts of philosophy and 
politics. So that Plato meant to shew us, that 
jione biit a philosopher can be a true orator. 
And it is in this sense we must understand all he 
3ays in his Gorgias against the rhetoricians ; I 
mean that set of men who made profession of talk- 
ing finely, and persuading others ; without endea- 
vouring to know, from solid philosophy, what 
one ought to teach them. In short, according to 
Plato, the true art of oratory consists in under- 
standing those useful truths of which we ought to 
convince people ; and the art of moving their pas- 
sions, in order to persuasion. Cicero t says almost 
the very same things. He seems, at first, to think 
that an orator should know eyery thing ; because 
he may have occasion to speak on ail sorts of sub- 

* Ac mea quidem sententia nemo pqterit esse omni laude 
cumulatus orator, nisi erit omnium rerum magnarum, atque 
artium scientiam consecutus. I)e Orat. lib. i.sect, 6. 

Oratorem plenum atque perfectum esse eum dicam, qui de 
omnibus rebus possit varie copioseque clicere. — Ibid. sect. 13. 

Verum enim oratori qua? sunt in bominum vita, quando- 
quidem in ea verselur orator, atrjiie ea est ti itubjecta mate- 
ries. Omnia quacsita, audita, lecta, disputata, tractata, agi* 
tata esse debent. Lib. iii. sect. 14. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 57 

jects; and, as Socrates observed before him, a 
man * can never talk well on a point of which he 
is not entirely master. But afterwards, because 
of the pressing necessities and shortness of life, 
Tully insists only upon those parts of knowledge 
which he thinks the most necessary for an orator. 
He would have him at least well instructed in all 
that part of philosophy t which relates to the con- 
duct and affairs of social life. But, above all things, 
lie would have an oratGr know the frame of man, J 

* Etenirn ex rerum cognitione efftorescat, et redundet 
oportet oratio : quae, nisi subest res ab oratore percepta, et 
cognita, inanem quandam habet elocutionem, et pene pueri- 
lem. De Orat. lib. i. sect. 6. 

f Fositum sit igitur in primis sine philosophia non 

posse emci, quern quaerimus eloquentem— — neq vero sine 
pbilosophorum disciplina, genus, et speciem cuj usque rei cer- 
nere, neque earn definiendo explicare, nee tribuere in partes 
possumus: nee judicare quae vera, qua? falsa si ut; neque cer- 
nere consequentia, repugnantia videre, ambigua distinguere. 
Quid dicam de natura rerum cujus cognitio magnam orationis 
suppeditat copiam ? De vita, de officiis, de virtute, de mori? 
bus? Orat. sect. 4. 

X Omnes animorum inotus quos hominum generi, rerum 
natura tribuit, penitus pernoscendi. — De Orat. lib. i. sect. 5. 

Num admoveri possit oratio ad sensus animorum, atque 
inotus vel inflaminandos, vel etiam extinguendos (quod unura 
in oratore dominatur,) sine diligentissima pervesti.atione 
earum omnium rationum qua? de naturis humani generis, ac 
paoribus, a philosophis explicatur— De Orat. lib. i. sect. 14. 



58 DIALOGUES 

both with regard to his soul and body, and the na- 
tural tendency and force of his passions ; because 
the great end of eloquence is to move the secret 
springs of them. He reckons the knowledge of the 
laws,* and constitution, to be the foundation of all 
public discourses : but he does not think a tho- 
rough insight into ail the particular cases and ques- 
tions in law to be necessary ; because, upon occa- 
sion, one may have recourse to experienced law- 
yers, whose peculiar profession it is to understand 
and disentangle such intricate points. He thinks, 
with Plato, that an orator should be a master of 
reasoning ;t and kuow how to define, and argue^ 

Quare hie locus de vita et moribus, totus est oratori pei> 
discendus. Ibid. sect. 15. 

* Bibliotbecas mehercule omnium pbilosopborum unus 
mibi videtur duodecim tabularum libellus, si quis legum fontes, 
et capita viderit, et auctoritatis pondere et utilitatis ubertate 
superare. Ac si nos, id quod maxime debet, nostra patria 

delectat. Cujus priinum nobis mens, mos, disci plina nota 

esse debet : vel quia est patria, parens omnium nostrum, vel 
quia tanta sapientia fuisse in jure constituendo putanda est, 
quanta fuit in his tantis operibus imperii comparandis. 

De Orat. lib. i. sect. 44, 

f Nee vero dialecticis modo sit instructus, sed habeat 
omnes philosophise notos, et tractatos locos. Nihil eniin de 
religione, nihil de morte, nihil de pietate, nihil de caritate 
patriae; nihil de bonis rebus, aut malis; nihil de virtutibus, 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 59 

and unravel, the most specious sophisms. He says, 
we destroy eloquence, if we should separate it from 
philosophy : for then, instead of wise orators, we 
should have only trifling, injudicious declaimers. 
He further requires not only an exact knowledge 
of all the principles of ethics ; but likewise that the 
orator be fully acquainted with antiquity.* He 
recommends the careful perusal of the ancient 
Greek writers, especially the historians; both for 
their stile, and for the historical facts which they 
relate. He particularly enjoins the study of the 
poets :+ because of the great resemblance there is 

aut vitiis — nihil, inquam, sine ea scientia, quam dixi, graviter, 
gunple, copiose dici, et expiicari potest. Orat. sect. 33. 

* Cognoscat etiam rerum gestarum et memorial veteris or- 
dinem, maxime scilicet nostras civitatis; sed et imperiosorum 
populorum et regum illustrium — nescire enim quid antea 
quam natus sis, accident, id est semper esse puerum — Com- 
memoratio autem antiquitatis, exemplorumque proiatio summa 
cum delectatione, et auctoritatem orationi aftert, et fid em. — 
Qrat. sect. 34. 

Apud Grrecos autem eloquentissimi homines remoti a cau- 
$is forensibus, cum ad ceteras res illustres, turn ad scribendam 
historiam maxime se applicaverunt. Namque et Herodotus — ■ 
et post ilium Thucydides omnes dicendi artificio mea senten- 
tia facile vicit — Denique etiam a philosophia profectus prin- 
ceps Xenophon. De Orat. lib. ii. sect. 13, 14. 

f Legendi etiam poetse, cognoscenda hifcioria, omnium 
bonarum artiuin scriptores. De Oral. lib. i. sect. i>4. 



60 DIALOGUES 

betwixt the figures of poetry and those of elo- 
quence. In fine, he often declares that an orator 
ought to furnish his mind with a clear comprehen- 
sive view of things, before he attempt to speak in 
public. I fancy I could almost repeat some of 
his words on this subject; so often have I read 
them ; and so strong an impression did they make 
odi my thoughts. You will be surprised to see 
how much knowledge, and hew many qualities, he 
requires.* u An orator," says he, a ought to have 
a the acuteness of logicians, the knowledge of 
" philosophers, the stile almost of the poets, the 
■" elocution and gesture of the finest actors." 



Est enim finitimus oratori poeta, numeris adstricticr paulo> 
verborum autem licentia liberior; multis vero ornandi generi- 
bus socius ac pene par; in hoc quidem certe prope idem, nul- 
lis ut terminis circumscribat aut definiat jus suum, quo minus 

ei liceat eadem ilia facultate, et copia vagari qua velit. 

Be Orat. lib. i. sect. 16. 

* Non quaeritur mobilitas linguae, non celeritas verborum, 
non denique ea qua? nobis non possumus fingere, facies, vul- 
tus, sonus. In oratore autem acumen dialecticorum, senten- 
tial philosophorum, verba prope poetarum, memoria juris con- 
sul torum, vox tragcedorum, gestus pene summorum actorum^ 
est requirendus. Quamobrem nihil in hominum genere rarius. 
perfecto oratore inveniri potest : quae enim singularum rerum 
artifices, singula si mediocriter adepti sunt, probantur, ea nisi 
omnia summa sunt in oratore, probari non possunt. 

De Orat. lib. i. sect. 28* 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 61 

Consider now how much application must be ne- 
cessary to attain all this. 

C. I have observed indeed, on several occa« 
sions, that some orators^ though they have good 
natural parts, want a fund of solid knowledge* 
Their heads seem unfurnished ; and one cannot 
but perceive they labour hard for matter to fill up 
their discourses. They do not seem to speak from 
the abundance of their hearts, as if they were full 
of useful truths : but they talk as if they were at a 
loss for the very next thing they are to say. 

A. Cicero takes notice of these kind of people, 
who live always, as it were, from hand to mouth i 
without laying up any stock of provision. But 
the discourses of such declaimers appear always 
thin and half starved, whatever pains they take 
about them. Though these men could afford 
three months for studying a public harangue, such 
particular preparations, however troublesome, 
must needs be very imperfect : and any judicious 
hearer will easily discern their defects. They 
ought to have employed several years in laying 
tip a plentiful store of solid notions : and then, afc 
ter such a general preparation, their particular 
discourses would cost them but little pains. 
Whereas if a man, without this preparatory 
study, lay out all his application upon particular 
subjects, he is forced to put off his hearers with 



62 DIALOGUES 

florid expressions,* gaudy metaphors, and jingling 
antitheses. He delivers nothing but indetermi- 
nate commonplace notions ; and patches together 
shreds of learning and rhetoric, which any one may 
see were not made one for another. He never 
goes to the bottom of things, but stops in superfi- 
cial remarks, and ofUtimes in false ones. He is 
not able to shew truths in their proper light, and 
full extent ; because all general truths are neces- 
sarily connected among themselves : so that one 
must understand almost all of thcm$ before he can 
treat judiciously of any one. 

* « There are two extremes to be avoided with the ut- 
" most care — the frigid stile, and the boyish. The former ren- 
" ders a discourse dry and insipid, by a languor and flatness 
" of expression : the latter renders it ungrateful and shocking, 
" by a swelling loftiness and affected amplification. Those, 
" who use the frigid stile, employ pompous expressions when 
" the subject requires plain ones : and they, who affect the 
" boyish stile, make use of low expressions when the matter 
" requires the loftiest. But our language is become so mo- 
" dest, so reserved, and so scrupulous, that the frigid stile in- 
" eludes all such expressions as are too strong, or too spark- 
u ling; too bold and hardy metaphors, and frequent turns of 
u wit. And the boyish stile comprehends strokes of humour, 
" and quaint concets upon serious subjects ; too loose and 
** heavy repetitions in those parts of a discourse which ought 
" to be close and concise ; too violent exaggerations, and too 
" laborious figures." 

M; Rap in, vol. ii. Reflection sur I 9 Eloquence. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 63 

C. However, many of our public speakers get 
repute by those slight attainments which you sa 
much despise. 

A. It is true, they are applauded by women 
and the undiscerning multitude, who are easily 
dazzled and imposed on i but this repute is very 
precarious ; and could not subsist long if it were 
not supported by a cabal of acquaintance, and the 
zeal or humour of a party. They who know the 
true end and rules of eloquence,* cannot hear such 
empty vain haranguers without satiety, disgust, 
and contempt, 

C. It seems, then, you would have a man wait 
several years before he attempt to speak in pub- 
lic : for the flower of his age must be spent in at- 
taining that vast fund of knowledge which you 
reckon necessary to an orator : and then he must 
be so far advanced in years, that he will have but 
little time to exert his talents. 

* a Expression is the dress of thought, and still 
u Appears more decent, as more suitable : 
" A low conceit in pompous words exprest, 
" Is like a clown in regal purple drest. 
4i For different stiles with different subjects sort, 
" As several garbs with country, town, and court. 
" Some by old words to fame have made pretence? 
u Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense ! 



64 DIALOGUES 

A. I would have him begin to exert them be« 
times : for I know very well how great the powef 
of action is. But under the pretence of exercising 
his parts, I would not have him immediately en- 
gage himself in any kind of employment which 
will take off his mind from his studies^ A youth 
may try his skill from time to time ; biit, for seve- 
ral years, a careful perusal of the best authors 
ought to be his main business* 

C. Your judicious observation puts me in 
mind of a preacher with whom I am acquainted ; 
who lives, as you say, from hand to mouth ; and 
hever thinks of any subject till he be obliged to 
treat of it : and then he shuts himself up in his 
closet, turns over his concordance, Combefix, and 
Polyanthea, his collections of sermons, and com- 
mon-place book of separate sentences and quota- 
tions* which he has gathered together. 

A. You cannot but perceive, sir, that thia 
method will never make him an able judicious 
preacher. In such cases, a man cannot talk with 
Strength and clearness : he is not sure of any tiding 
he says : nor doth any thing flow easily from him. 
His whole discourse has a borrowed air; and looks 

" Such laboured nothings, in so strange a stile, 
" Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile." 
; Pope's Essay on Ctltlcism, 



Concerning eloquence. 65 

like an awkward piece of patch-work. Certainly 
those are much to be blamed, who are so impa- 
tiently fond of shewing their parts. 

B. Before you leave us, sir, pray tell us what 
you reckon the chief effect of eloquence. 

A. Plato says, an oration is so far eloquent as it 
affects the hearer's mind. By this rule you may 
judge certainly of any discourse you hear. If a 
harangue leave you cold and languid ; and only 
amuses, instead of enlightening your mind ; if it 
do not move your heart and passions, however 
florid and pompous it may be, it is not truly elo- 
quent. Tully approves of Plato's sentiments on 
this point; and tells us,* that the whole drift and 
force of a discourse should tend to move those se- 
cret springs of action which nature has placed in 
the hearts of men. Would you then consult your 
own mind, to know whether those you hear be 
truly eloquent ? If they make a lively impression 
upon you, and gain your attention and assent to 
what they say ; if they move and animate your 
passions, so as to raise t you above yourself, you 
maybe assured they are true orators. But if, in* 
stead of affecting you thus, they only please or di- 
vert you, and make you admire the brightness of 

* Lib. i. sect. 5. Lib. ii. sect. 82. 
f See Longinus, sect, vVi 
F 



66 DIALOGUES 

their thoughts, or the beauty and propriety of 
their language, you may freely pronounce them 
to be mere declaimers. 

B. Stay a little, sir, if you please, till I ask 
you a few more questions. 

A. I wish I could stay longer, gentlemen ; 
for your conversation is very engaging : but I 
have an affair to dispatch which will not admit of 
a delay. To-morrow I will wait on you again : 
and then we shall finish this subject at our leisure* 

B. Adieu j then, sir, till to-morrow. 



SECOND DIALOGUE, 



B. YOU are extremely kind, sir, in coming so 
punctually. Your conversation yesterday was so 
agreeably instructive, that we longed impatiently 
to hear you again upon the same subject. 

C. For my part> I made what haste I could, 
lest I should have come too late ; for I was un- 
willing to lose any part of your discourse. 

A. Such conferences are very useful among 
those who really love truth, and talk with temper : 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 67 

for then they exchange their best thoughts, and 
express them as clearly as they can. As for my- 
self, gentlemen, I find an advantage in conversing 
with you; seeing you are not displeased at the 
freedom which I take* 

B. Let us leave off compliments, sir; I know 
best how to judge of myself: and I perceive 
clearly^ that without your assistance I should have 
continued in several errors. I entreat you, sir, to 
go on, and set me entirely right in my notions of 
eloquence. 

A. Your mistakes, if you will allow me to 
call them so, prevail among most people of worth 
and learning, who have not examined this matter 
to the bottom. 

B. Let us not lose time in preamble : we shall 
have a thousand things to say. Proceed therefore, 
sir, to rectify my mistakes ; and begin at the point 
where we left off yesterday. 

A. Of what point were we talking when we 
. parted? I have really forgot. 

C. You were speaking of that kind of elo- 
quence, which consists entirely in moving the pas- 
sions. 

B. Yes : but I could not well comprehend 
that the whole design of rhetoric is to move the 
passions. Is that your opinion, sir? 

f2 



68 DIALOGUES 

A. By no means. 

C. It seems, then, I mistook you yesterday. 

A. What would you say of a man who should 
persuade without any proof; and affect his hear- 
ers, without enlightening them ? You could not 
reckon him a true orator. He might seduce 
people by this art of persuading them to what he 
would, without shewing the mthat what he recom- 
mended is right. Such a person must prove very 
dangerous in the commonwealth ; as we have seen 
before, from the reasoning of Socrates* 

B. It is very true. 

A. But, on the other hand, what would you 
think of a man, who, in his public discourses^ 
should demonstrate the truth, in a plain, dry, ex- 
act, methodical manner; or make use of the geo- 
metrical way of reasoning ; without adding any 
thing to adorn or enliven his discourse ? would you 
reckon him an orator ? 

B. No: I should think him only a philoso- 
pher. 

A. To make a complete orator, then, we must 
find a philosopher who knows both how to demon- 
strate any truth, and, at the same time, to give his 
accurate reasoning all the natural beauty and ve- 
hemence of an agreeable, moving discourse, to 
render it entirely eloquent* And herein lies the 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 69 

difference betwixt the clear convincing method of 
philosophy ; and the affecting, persuasive art of 
eloquence. 

C. What do you say is the difference ? 

A. I say a philosopher's aim is merely to de- 
monstrate the truth, and gain your assent ; while 
the orator not only convinces your judgment, but 
commands your passions. 

C. I do not take your meaning exactly yet. 
When a hearer is fully convinced, what is there 
more to be done ? 

A. There is still wanting what an orator would 
do more than a metaphysician, in proving the ex- 
istence of God. The metaphysician would give 
you a plain demonstration of it; and stop at the 
speculative view of that important truth. But the 
orator would further add whatever is proper to ex- 
cite the most affecting sentiments in your mind ; 
and make you love that glorious Being whose ex- 
istence he had proved. And this is what we call 
persuasion. 

C. Now I understand you perfectly well, 

A. You see, then, what reason Cicero had 
to say, that we must never separate philosophy 
from eloquence. For the art of persuading, w ith- 
out wisdom, and previous instruction, must be 
pernicious : and wisdom alone, without the art of 
persuasion, can never have a sufficient influence 



70 DIALOGUES 

on the minds of men ; nor allure them to the love 
and practice of virtue. I thought it proper to ob? 
serve this by the bye, to shew you how much 
those of the last age were mistaken in their notions 
of this matter. For, on the one hand, there were 
some men of polite learning, who valued nothing 
but the purity of languages, and books elegantly 
written : but having no solid principles of know- 
ledge, with their politeness and erudition, they 
were generally libertines.* On the other hand, 
there were a set of dry, formal scholars, who de-? 
livered their instructions in such a perplexed, 
dogmatical, unaffected manner, as disgusted every 
body. Excuse this digression, I return now to 
the point; and must remind you, that persuasion 
has this advantage beyond mere conviction or 
demonstration ; that it not only sets truth in the 
fullest light, but represents it as amiable ; and en«? 
gages men to love and pursue it. The whole + 
ftrt of eloquence, therefore, consists in enforcing 

* How many writers of this description are to be met with 
in the present day ! who, with a most insinuating address, and 
\n a beautiful and elegant style, are infusing into the minds of 
the young and unwary, the most dangerous tenets, and zeal- 
pusly spreading a poisonous contagion throughout the land. 

Editor. 

f Omnes animorum motus, quos hominum generi re- 
rum natura tribuit, penitus pernoscendi ; quod omnis vis ra^ 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 71 

the clearest proofs of any truth, with such power- 
ful motives as may affect the hearers, and employ 
their passions to just and worthy ends ; to raise 
their indignation at ingratitude ; their horror against 
cruelty ; their compassion for the miserable ; their 
love of virtue ; and to direct every other passion 
to its proper objects. This is what Plato calls af- 
fecting the minds of an audience, and moving 
their bowels. Do you understand me, sir ? 

B. Very plainly : and I see, too, that elo- 
quence is not a trifling invention to amuse and 
dazzle people with pompous language; but that 
it is a very serious art, and serviceable to mo* 
rality. 

A. It is both a serious and a difficult art. For 
which reason, Tully said he had heard several 
persons declaim in an elegant, engaging manner ; 
but that there were only very few complete ora- 
tors, who knew how to seize and captivate the 
heart. 

C. 1 am not surprised at that; for I see but 

tioque dicendi in eorum qui audiunt, mentibus aut sedaadis, 
aut excitandis, exprimenda est. — Cic. de Orat. lib. i. sect. 5. 

Maximaque pars orationis admovenda est ad animorum 
motus nonnunquam aut cohortatione, aut commemoratione 
aliqua, aut in spem, aut in metum, aut ad cupiditatem, aut ad 
gloriam concitandos : sa^pe etiam a temeritate, iracundia, spe, 
injuria, crudelitate revocaudos. Ibid. lib. ii. sect. 82. 



72 DIALOGUES 

very few who aim at it : nay, I freely own that 
Cicero himself, who lays down this rule, seems 
oftentimes to forget it. What do you think of 
those rhetorical flowers with which he embellish- 
eth his harangues ? They might amuse the fancy, 
but could not touch the heart.* 

A, We must distinguish, sir, betwixt Tully's 

* The character of Cicero, as an orator, is thus given by 
Dr. Blair. , " His method is clear, and his arguments are ar. 
u ranged with great propriety : we find every thing in its pro- 
" per place. He never attempts to move till he has enclea- 
*' voured to convince. No man that ever wrote, knew the 
a power and force of words better than Cicero. He rolls 
" them along with the greatest beauty and pomp ; and, in the 
" structure of his sentences, is curious and exact to the high- 
" est degree. He is always full and flowing, never abrupt. 
iC Though his manner is, on the whole, diffuse, yet it is often 

" happily varied, and suited to the subject. This great 

u orator, however, is not without his defects. In most of his 
u orations there is too much art, even carried to the length of 
" ostentation. He seems often to aim at obtaining admira- 
" tion, rather than at operating conviction. Hence, on some 
" occasions, he is showy rather than solid ; and diiluse, 
" where he ought to h ive been pressing. , His sentences are, 
" at all times, round and sonorous; they cannot be accused 
" of monotony, for they possess variety of cadence ; but, 
u from too great a study of magnificence, he is sometimes de- 
" ficient in strength. Though the services which he had per- 
** formed to his country were very considerable, yet he is too 
il much his own panegyrist, " Blair's Lcct. vol. ii. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 73 

orations. Those which he composed in his youth 
(when he chiefly aimed at establishing his cha- 
racter,) have oftentimes the gay defect you speak 
of. He was then full of ambition ; and far more 
concerned for his own fame than for the justice of 
his cause. And this will always be the case when 
people employ one to plead for them, who regards 
their business no farther than as it gives him an 
opportunity of distinguishing himself, and shining 
in his profession. Thus we find, thai among the 
Romans, their pleading at the bar was oftentimes 
nothing else but a pompous declamation. After 
all, we must own that Tully's youthful* and most 

* Nunc causa perorata, res ipsa et periculi magnitude*, 
C. Aquilli, cogere videtur, ut te, atque eos, qui tibi in consilio 
sunt, obsecret, obtesteturque P. Quintius per senectutem ac 
solitudinem suam, nihil aliud, nisi ut vestrae naturae, bonita- 
tique obsequamini : ut, cum Veritas haec faciat, plus hujus 
inopia possit ad misericordiam quam illius opes ad crudeli- 
tatem— — Si quae pudore ornamenta sibi peperit, Naevi, ea po- 
test contra petulantiam, te defendente, obtinere ; spes est et 
hunc miserum atque mfelicem aliquando tandem posse con- 
sistere. Sin et poterit Naevius id quod libet ; et ei libebit, 
quod non licet, quid agendum est ? Qui Deus appellandus 
est? cujus homiuis fides imploranda? — ab ipso [Naevio] re- 
pudiatus, ab amicis ejus non sublevatus; ab omni magistrate 
figitatus atque perterritus, quern praeter te appellet, [C. 
Aquilli] habet neminem; tibi se, tibi suas omnes opes fortu- 
casque commendat : tibi committit existimationem ac spem 



74 DIALOGUES- 

elaborate orations shew a great deal of his moving 
and persuasive art. But to form a just notion of 
it, we must observe the harangues which he made, 
in his more advanced age, for the necessities of 
the republic. For then, the experience he had 
in the weightiest affairs, the love of liberty, and 
the fear of those calamities which hung over his 
head, made him display the utmost efforts of his 
eloquence. When he endeavoured to support 
and revive expiring liberty, and to animate the 
commonwealth against Anthony his enemy ; you 
do not see him use points of wit and quaint an- 
titheses : he is then truly eloquent. Every thing 
seems artless, as it ought to be when one is vehe- 
ment. With a negligent air he delivers the most 
natural and affecting sentiments ; and says every 
thing that can move and animate the passions. 

reliquse vitse. Multis vexatus contumeliis, plurimis jactatus 
injuriis non turpis ad te, sed miser confugit; e fundo ornatis- 
simo dejectus, ignominiis omnibus appetitus — Itaque te hoc 
obsecrat, C, Aquilli, ut quam existimationem, quam honesta- 
tem in judicium tuum, prope acta jam setate decursaque at- 
tulit, earn liceat ei secum ex hoc loco efferre; ne is, de cujus 
officio nemo unquam dubitavit, sexagesimo denique anno, de- 
decore, macula, turpissimaque ignominia notetur : ne orna- 
mentis ejus omnibus, Sex. Naevius pro spoliis abutatur: re 
per te ferat, quo minus, quae existimatio P. Quintium usque 
ad senectutem perduxit, eadem usque ad rogum prosequatur. 

Cic. Oral, pro P. Quintio, 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 75 

C. You have often spoken of witty conceits 
and quaint turns. Pray, what do you mean by 
these expressions ? For I can scarce distinguish 
those witty turns from the other ornaments of 
discourse. In my opinion, all the embellish- 
ments of speech flow from wit, and a vigorous 
fancy. 

A. But Tully thinks there are many expres- 
sions, which owe all their beauty and ornament to 
their force and propriety ; and to the nature of the 
subject to which they are applied. 

C. I do not exactly understand these terms: 
be pleased to shew me, in a familiar way, how I 
may readily distinguish betwixt a flash of wit, or 
quaint turn, and a solid ornament, or noble deli- 
cate thought.* 

A. Reading and observation will teach you 
best : there are a hundred different sorts of witty 
conceits. 

* " True wit is nature to advantage dress'd, 

" What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd ; 

'* Something, whose truth convine'd at sight we find, 

u That gives us back the image of our mind. 

u As shades more sweetly recommend the light : 

ic So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit. 

" For works may have more wit than does them good ; 

u As bodies perish through excess of blood." 

Pope's Essay on Criticism. 



76 DIALOGUES 

C. But pray, sir, tell me at least some ge* 
ncral mark by which I may know them : Is it af-> 
feciation ? 

A. Not every kind of affectation, but a fond 
desire to please, and shew one's wit. 

C. This gives me some little light ; but I want 
still some distinguishing marks to direct my judg- 
ment. 

A. I will give you one then, which, perhaps, 
will satisfy you. We have seen that eloquence 
consists not only in giving clear convincing proofs ; 
but likewise in the art of moving the passions. 
Now, in order to move them, we must be able to 
paint them well ; with their various objects and 
effects. So that I think the whole art of oratory 
may be reduced to proving, painting, and raising 
the passions. Now, all those pretty, sparkling, 
quaint thoughts which do not tend to one of these 
ends, are only witty conceits. 

C. What do you mean by painting ? I never 
heard that term applied to rhetoric. 

A. To paint,* is not only to describe things; 
but to represent the circumstances of them, in such 
a lively sensible manner,t that the hearer shall 

* See Longinus, sect. xv. 

f Plus est evidentia, vel ut alii dicunt, repraesentatio, 
quam perspicuitas : et illud quidem patet: hsec se quodam- 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 77 

fancy he almost sees them with his eyes. For in- 
stance, if a dry historian were to give an account 
of Dido's death, he would only say, she was over- 
whelmed with sorrow after the departure ofiEneas ; 
and that she grew weary of her life : so she went 
up to the top of her palace, and, lying down on 
her funeral pile, she stabbed herself. Now, these 
words would inform you of the fact, but you do 
not see it. When you read the story in Virgil,* 

modo ostendit — Magna virtus est, res de quibus loquimur, 

clare atque ut cerni videantur, enunciare. Non enim satis 

efficit, neque ut debet plene dominatur oratio, si usque ad au- 

res volet, atque ea sibi judex de quibus cognoscit, narrari ere-* 

dit, non exprimi, et ocutis mentis ostendi Atque hujus 

summa?, judicio quidem meo, virtutis facillima est via. Natu- 

ram intueamur, hanc sequamur. 

Quintil. lib. viii. cap. 3. 

* Talia dicentem jamdudum aversa tuetur, 
Hue illuc volvens oculos, totumque pererrat 
Luminibus tacitis, et sic accensa profatur ; 

Heu ! furiis incensa feror 

Turn vero infelix fatis exterrita Dido, 
Mortem orat : taedet cceli convexa tueri. 
Ergo ubi concepit furias, evicta dolore, 
Decrevitque mori; tempus secum ipsa modumque 

Exigit 

At regina pyrn, penetrali in sede, sub auras 
Erecta ingenti, taedis atque ilice secta 
Tntenditque locum sertis, et fronde coronat 



78 DIALOGUES 

he sets it before your eyes. When he represents 
all the circumstances of Dido's despair, describes 
her wild rage, and death already Staring in her as- 
pect ; when he makes her speak at the sight of the 
picture and sword which iEneas left, your imagi- 
nation transports you to Carthage ; where you see 
the Trojan* fleet leaving the shore, and the queen 

funerea ; super exuiaas, en-semque relictum, 
Effigiemque toro locat — et crines effusa sacerdos 

Tercentuiix tonat ore Deos 

Ipsa mola, manibusque piis ? altariajuxta 
Unum exuta pedem vinclis, in veste recincta 
Testatur moritura Deos 7 et conscia fati 
Sidera : turn, si quod non aequo fcedere amantes 
Curae numen habet 7 justumque memorque precatur, 
Nox erat : et placidum carpebant fessa soporem 
Corpora per terras ; silvaeque et sasva quierant 
iEquora : cum medio volvuntur sidera lapsu : 
Cum tacet omnis ager ; pecudes, pictaeque volucres. 
Quaeque lacus late liquid os, quaeque aspera dumis 
Rura tenent, somno positae sub nocte silenti 
Lenibant curas, et corda oblita laborum. 
At non infeiix animi Phoenissa ;- neq'ue unquam 
Solvitur in somnos, oculisve aut pectore noctem 
Accipit : ingemiuant curae, rursusque resurgens 
Saevit amor, magnoque irarum fluctuat aestu. — • 
* Et jam prima novo spargebat lumine terras 
Tithoni croceum linquens Aurora cubile : 
Regina et speculis ut primuin albescere lucera: 
Vidit, et aequatis classem procedere veiis; 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 79 

quite inconsolable. You enter into all her pas- 
sions, and into the sentiments of the supposed 
spectators. It is not Virgil you then hear : 
you are too attentive to the last* words of un- 

Littoraque, et vacuos sensit sine remige portus ; 
Terque quaterque manu pectus percussa decorum, 
Flaventesque abscissa comas : pro Jupiter ! ibit 
Hie, ait, et nostris illuserit advena regnis ? 
Non arma expedient? totaque ex urbe sequentur? 
Diripientque rates alii navalibus ? ite, 
Ferte citi flammas, date vela, impellite remos. 
Quid loquor? aut ubi sum? qua? mentem insania mutat? 
Infelix Dido ! num te facta impia tangunt ? 
Haec ait : et partes animum versabat in omnes, 
Invisam quserens quamprimum abrumpere lucem, 
* At trepida, et cssptis immanibus efFera Dido 
Sanguineam volvens aciem, maculisque trementes 
Interfusa genas, et pallida morte futura^ 
Interiora domus irrumpit limina, et altos 
Conscendit furibunda rogos, ensemque recludit 
Dardanium ; non hos quaasitum munus in usus. 
Hie postquam iliacas vestes, notumque cubile 
Conspexit, paulum lacrymis, et mente morata 
Incubuitque toro, dixitque novissima verba : 
Dulces exuviae ! dum fata Deusque sinebant, 
Accipite hanc animam, meque bis exsolvite curis. 
Vixi, et quern dederat cursum fortuna peregi : 
Dixit : et os impressa toro, Moriemur inultae ? 
Sed moriamur, ait. Sic, sic ju vat ire sub umbras. 
Hauriat hunc oculis i^nem crudelis ab alto 



80 DIALOGUES 

happy Dido, to think of him. The poet disap- 
pears : and we see only what he describes ; and 
hear those only whom he makes to speak. Such 
is the force of a natural imitation, and of painting 
in language. Hence it comes that the painters 
and the poets are so nearly related : the one 
paints for the eyes, and the other for the ears : 
but both of them ought to convey the liveliest 
pictures to people's imagination. I have taken 
an example from a poet, to give you a livelier 

Dardanus, et nostra secum ferat omina mortis. 
Dixerat : atque illam media inter talia ferro 
Collapsam aspiciunt comites, ensemque cruore 
Spumantem, sparsasque manus. It clamor ad alta 
Atria : concussam bacchatur fama per urbem 
Lamentis gemituque, et femineo ululatu 
Tecta fremunt ; resonat magnis plangoribus rether. 
Audiit exanimis, trepidoque exterrita cursu 
Unguibus ora soror foedans, et pectora pugnis 
Per medios ruit, ac morientem nomine clamat. 

* — Sic fata, gradus evaserat altos, 

Semianimemque sinu germanam amplexa fovebat 
Cum gemitu, atque atros siccabat veste cruores. 
Ilia graves oculos conata attollere, rursus 
Deficit: infixum stridet sub pectore vulnus. 
Ter sese attollens, cubitoque adnixa levavit : 
Ter revoluta toro est; oculisque errantibus, alto 
Qusesivit ccelo lucem, ingemuitque reperta. 

Virg. JF.neid. lib. ir. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 81 

image of what I mean by painting, in eloquence : 
for poets paint In a stronger manner than orators. 
Indeed the main thing in which poetry differs 
from eloquence is, that the poet paints with en- 
thusiasm, and gives bolder touches than the ora- 
tor. But prose allows of painting in a moderate de- 
gree: for, without lively descriptions, it is impossible 
to warm the hearer's fancy, or to stir his passions. 
A plain narrative does not move people : we must 
not only inform them of facts ; but strike their 
senses,* by a lively, moving representation of the 
manner and circumstances of the facts which we 
relate. 

C. I never reflected on this before. But 
since what you call painting is essential to ora- 
tory ; does it not follow that there can be no true 
eloquence, without a due mixture of poetry ? 

* t>k ot pr,TQfixr,<; (pocvTcccrlas kccAAt^ai uei to BfiTrpctxrov 
Kca evoc.\r;§z<;, — * — kolahtcu [a,iv ycc^ xowuc, (pcLVTUcrict) woiv sv- 
voyua, Aoyx yivvtnTixov ottuo-ovv *ncti\<rQcyLivo)) % l¥wq <J' it?) T£« 
Twv xsxf&TY)X£ T8 voyict, qtolv u >\zyr)<; vsjo h^ovciac^ xu) 
vravovq /3/\swshj coxm?, xoct war ©\{/»v T»9y?$ to is axtaartv — T» 
£v i pTopix>j <pa,vTu<rioi ivvUrui' froTfra uh leu; xocl qcaaoi 
ToifAoyoiq ev&yavia, km lyLKavri Ifffocrnj-Cpepeiv' xetTCbxicvcttAsvri 
p£\i roy roc?; iffpocyuanxaTq iniyi^aicWy & TreiQei rev uxcocc* 

tyiv povov, ccaacc xoa i*Wvfc?T«t. LONGINUS, sect. xv. 

G 



82 DIALOGUES 

A. You are right: only we must exclude 
versification ; that is, a strict regard to the quan- 
tity of syllables, and the order of words in which 
the poet is obliged to express his thoughts, accord- 
ing to the measure or verse in which he writes. 
Versification, indeed, if it be in rhyme, is what in- 
judicious people reckon to be the whole of poetry. 
Some fancy themselves to be poets, because they 
have spoken or written in measured words : but 
there are many who make verses without poetry : 
and others are very poetical* without making 
verses. If, therefore, we set versifying aside, po- 
etry in other respects is only a lively fiction which 
paints nature. And if one has not this genius for 
painting, he will never be able to imprint things 

* The Adventures of Telemachus, composed by our inge- 
nious author, are entirely written in that poetic prose of which 
he here speaks. M. Bossu, the greatest modern critic, does not 
think that work can be called a poem; but he owns the dis- 
tinction which our author here takes notice of. " There is 
u good reason/' says he, " to distinguish such artless composi- 
" tions [turned into verse] from true poetry, by giving them the 
" name of versification; and to make of versification and po- 
" etry, as it were, two different arts. And indeed, is there a 
u greater diiference betwixt grammar and rhetoric, than be- 
" twixt the art of making verses, and that of inventing a 
" poem?" Traitc du Foeme Epique, liv. i. cap. 5. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 83 

r>n the hearer's mind : but his discourse will be 
flat, languid, and wearisome* Ever since the fall 
of Adam, men's thoughts have been so low and 
grovelling, that they are inattentive to moral 
truths, and can scarce conceive any thing but 
what affects their senses. In this consists the de- 
generacy of human nature. People grow soon 
weary of contemplation : intellectual ideas do not 
strike their imagination : so that we must use sen- 
sible and familiar * images to support their atten- 
tion, and convey abstracted truths to their minds. 
Hence it came, that, soon after the fall, the reli- 
gion of all the ancients consisted of poetry and 
idolatry; which were always joined together in 
their various schemes of superstition. But let us 
not wander too far— You see plainly that poetry, 
I mean the lively painting of things, is, as it 
were, the very soul of eloquence. 

C. But if true orators be poets> I should think 
that poets are orators too ; for poetry is very pro- 
per to persuade. 

A. Yes; they have the very same end* All 
the difference betwixt them consists in what I have 
told you. Orators are not possessed with that en- 

* Respicere exemplar vitae morumque jubebo 
Doctqm imitatorem, et veras hinc ducere voces. 

Hok. de Art. Poet, 
q2 



84 DIALOGUES 

thusiasm which fires the poet's breast, and renders 
him more lively, more sublime, and bolder in ex- 
pression* You remember the passage which I 
quoted from Cicero. 

C. Which? Is it not— 

A. That an orator ought to have the stile al- 
most of a poet : that almost points out the differ- 
ence between them. 

C. I understand you. But you do not come 
to the point you proposed to explain to us. 

A. Which? 

C. The rule for distinguishing betwixt witty 
turns and solid ornaments. 

A. You will soon comprehend that. For of 
what use in discourse can any ornament be, which 
does not tend either to prove, to paint, or to af- 
fect ? 

C. It may serve to please* 

A. We must distinguish here between such or- 
naments, as only please, and those which both 
please and persuade. That which serves to please, 
in order to persuade, is good and solid : thus we 
arc pleased with strong and clear arguments. The 
just and natural emotions of an orator have much 
grace and beauty in them ; and his exact and lively 
painting charms us. So that all the necessary parts 
of eloquence are apt to please ; but yet pleasing is 
not their true aim. The question is, whether wc 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 85 

shall approve such thoughts and expressions as 
may, perhaps, give an amusing delight ; but, in 
other respects, are altogether useless ? and these 
I call quaint turns, and points of wit. You must 
remember now, that I allow of all those graces of 
stile, and delicate thoughts, which tend to per- 
suasion : I only reject those vain affected orna- 
ments which the self-conceited author uses to pain, 
his own character, and amuse others with his wit ; 
instead of filling their minds entirely with his sub- 
ject. In fine, 1 think we ought to condemn not 
only all jingle, and playing with words, as a thing 
extremely mean and boyish ; but even all witty 
conceits and fanciful turns ; I mean, such thoughts 
as only flash and glitter upon the fancy, but con- 
tain nothing solid and conducive to persuasion. 

C. I could agree to that ; but am afraid such 
severity would retrench the chief beauties of dis- 
course. 

A. Do not you reckon Homer and Virgil very 
agreeable authors ? Are they not the most delicate 
you ever read ? And yet in them you do not find 
what we call points of wit. Their poems are full 
of a noble simplicity : their art is entirely conceal- 
ed : nature itself appears in all they say.* We 

* When first young Maro sung of kings and wars, 
Ere warming Phivbus touch'd his trembling ears, 



86 DIALOGUES 

do not find a single word which seems purposely 
designed to shew the poet's wit. They * thought 
it their greatest glory never to appear, but to em* 
ploy our attention on the objects which they de«? 
scribe : as a painter endeavours to set before your 
eyes wide forests, mountains, rivers, distant views, 
and buildings; or the adventures, actions, and 

Perhaps he seem'd above the critic's law, 
And but from nature's fountains scorn'd to draw : 
But when X? examine every part he came, 
Nature and Homer were, he found, the same. 
Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem ; 
To copy nature is to copy them. 

Pope's Essay on Criticism. 

, * X K«J (jlo) Iitts* zTrir&O'GM WS ITuaoo? rot Tre^uroc, ev oh$ 
o irowrriq (prior) rov ytXv Xgvcrriv ^etoSoa rs Ayot[/,E(AVov<&' ocmo- 
hi?ou riv Svyocregci, rov $e youkzTt&w&iv'-- OiVS"' ovv % on 

• ucci Ixio-crsro iroevrocq A%a,i£<; 9 

Arpe^oc $e j^^tr«j $i(t> aoo-(jLy)Tops hotuv — 
heyen re uvroq o Trowr-vs, hoc) « J* iTr^etpeii r)pujv ryv motvoiocv 
uXXoos toetteiv uq cch7\0<; nq o Keyuv r) uvro^ roc <5e {aetoc, 
rotvrcty ugttep clvto% wv o Xgvj-r)<; heyet, xut TTEipoirca ripccs 
on potXirot, Troincrcn (ty ^Ofjwgqv $oxeiv Uvcu rov "hiyovrct, kXhoo 
rov Iedboc TnyiaZvrriv ovrcc' kolI rnv oiXXw os ircltTGiv a-yeoov n 
ovrct) TTETroinron' oiyyricrkv Trsei re rcuv ev IXico koci> wepy ruv eh 
i&ixvi KOil oXri 'O^vcrceicc ircc^ri^aruv. 

Plato de Repiib* lib. iii, 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. gj 

different passions of men, in such a lively manner, 
that you cannot trace the masterly strokes of his 
pencil : for art looks mean and coarse when it is 
perceived. Plato (who had examined this mat- 
ter more thoroughly than any other orator, or 
critic,) assures us, that in composing, the poet* 
should always keep out of sight, make himself be 
quite forgotten by his readers, and represent only 
those things and persons which he would set before 
their eyes. You see bow much the ancients ex- 
celled us in just and lofty sentiments, 

B. I see the use and necessity of painting in 
eloquence : let us next know the nature and use of 
those affecting movements which you spoke of. 

A. They serve to raise in the hearer's mind 
such emotions as answer the orator's purpose. 

C. But in what do these movements of an 
orator consist ? 

A. In his words, and in the actions of his 
body. 

B. What movement can there be in words ? 
A. A great deal. Tully tell us, that the very 

enemies of Gracchus could not forbear weeping 

.hi os ys (jwoauca eavrov ocTroy.^virloiro o 7roirjT^<;, ttocctx 
av uvtcj ocvbv fxi ptqaiuc, y Troi^aii; ts y.oti y oirjyrjcri^ ytyovviot 
hyi Plato de Repub. lib. iii. 



88 DIALOGUES 

when he pronounced these words,* a — Miserable 
" man that I am! whither shall I turn myself? 
" where can I go J to the capitol ? It swims with 
" my brother's blood . Shall I go to my own house ? 
** there to see my unhappy mother dissolved in 
" tears, and oppressed with sorrow ?*' This is 
moving language. But now if one were to say the 
same things in a cold manner, they would lose all 
their force. 

B, Think you so? 

A. Let us try, ' • I know not where to go, nor 
" whither I should turn myself amidst my misfor- 
" tunes. The capitol is the place where my bro- 
u ther's blood was shed ; and at home, I shall see 
" my unhappy mother lamenting her condition 
" with the utmost grief." This is the same thing 
that was said before : but what is become of that 

* Quid fuit in Graccho, quern tu, Catule, melius memi-» 
nisti, quod me puero tantopere ferretur ? " Quo me miser con- 
46 feram? quo vertam ? in capitoliumne? at fratris sanguine 
4< redundat. An donmm ? matremne ut miseram lamentantem- 
" que videam, et abjectam?" Quag sic ab illo acta esse con- 
stabat oculis, voce, gestu, inimici ut lacrymas tenere non pos- 
seitt, Haec eo dico pluribus, quod genus hoc totuni oratores, 
qui sunt veritatis ipsius actores, reliquerunt ; imitatores autem 
veritatis, histriones, occupaverunt. 

Cic, de Orat. lib. iii, sect. 56- 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 89 

force and vivacity we then perceived ? where is 
that vehement manner,* and abrupt language, 
which so justly describes nature in the transports 
of grief? The manner of saying a thing shews us 
how it affects the mind : and that is what most ef- 
fectually touches the hearer. In such passages, 
one ought studiously to avoid all refined, uncom- 
mon thoughts ; and even neglect connexion and 
order : otherwise the passion described has no ap- 
pearance of truth or nature in it. Nothing is more 
shocking than a passion expressed in beautiful 
figures, pompous language, and well turned pe- 
riods. On this head, I must recommend Longi- 
nus to you,t who quotes many sublime examples 
from Demosthenes and others. 

C. Besides the movements which attend an 
affecting, vehement stile, you mentioned others 
which flow from the orator's gesture and action, 
which I must entreat you to explain. 

A. I cannot pretend to give you a complete 
system of rhetoric. It is a task I am not fit for. 
However, I shall give you some remarks which I 
have made on the point of gesture. We fiud in 
Tully and Quintilian,^ that the action of the 

* See Loxginus, sect, xviii. 
f See sect, xviii. xix. xx. xxi. 
J Femur ferire, quod Athenis primus fbcisse creditur 



90 DIALOGUES 

Greeks and Romans was far more violent than 
ours. They stamped on the ground ; and even 
beat their forehead. Tally mentions an orator, 
who, in his pleading, laid hold of his client, and 
tore open his clothes, to shew the judges the 
wounds which he had received in the service of 
the republic. This was a vehement kind of action 
indeed ; but such as is reserved for extraordinary 
occasions; and doth not fall within the common 
rules of gesture. I think it is not natural to be al- 
ways moving one's arm in talking : that motion * 
is proper enough when the orator is very vehe- 
ment : but he ought not to move his arm in order 
to appear vehement. Nay, there are many things 
which ought to be pronounced calmly, and with- 
out any motion. 

B. Would you have a preacher, for instance, 
use no gesture at all on some occasions ? that 
would look very strange indeed. 

A. I know that most people lay it down for a 

Cleon, et usitatum est, et indignatos decet, et excitat audito- 
rem. Idque in Callidio Cicero desiderat. " Non Irons, in- 
" quit, percussa? non femur? pedum nulla supplosio?' 7 

Quint, lib. xi. cap. 3. 
* Brachii moderata projectio remissis humeris, atque ex-, 
plicantibus se in proferenda manu digitis, continuos et decur^. 
rentes locos maxnne decet. Ibid. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 91 

rule, or a custom at least, that a preacher should 
be always in motion, whatever the subject be that 
he treats of. But it might be easily shewn that 
our [French] preachers usually have too much 
gesture, and sometimes too little. 

B. I wish you would state this matter clearly : 
for I always believed, from the example of * *"*, 
that there are not above two or three motions of the 
hands to be used in a whole sermon. 

A. Let us then lay down some principle to 
argue upon. Now, of what use is the action * of 
the body in speaking ? Is it not to express the 
sentiments and passions of the mind ? 

B. I think so, 

A. The motion of the body then should help 
to paint the thoughts of the soul. 

* Actio inquam in dicendo una dominatur : sine hac sum- 
mus orator esse in numero nuilo potest : mediocris, hac in- 
structus sumraos ssepe superare. Huic primas dedisse Demos- 
thenes dicitur, quum rogaretur quid in dicendo esset priinum ; 
huic secundas; huic tertias. De Orat. lib. lii. sect. 56. 

Est eniin actio quasi sermo corporis ; quo magi 9 menti 
congrua esse debet — atque in iis omnibus quae sunt action is, 
inest quaedam vis a natura data: qua re etiam hae imperiti, 
hac vulgus, hac denique barbari maxiine commoventur — iis— 
dem enim omnium animi motibus concitantur, et tos iisdem 
notis, et in aliis agnoscunt, et in se ipsi indicant. 

Ibid, sect. 54. 



92 DIALOGUES 

B. Yes. 

A. And that painting ought to be exact and 
faithful.* Every look and motion should , in an 
easy, natural manner, represent the speaker's sen- 
timents, and the nature of the things he says ; but 
so as to avoid all mean and theatrical gestures. 

B. I think I understand your notion exactly. 
Let me interrupt you then a little ; that you may 
see how far I enter into the consequences which 
flow from the principle you laid down. You 
would have an orator use such a lively,+ natural, 
becoming action, as will help to point out distinctly 
what his words alone could express only in a flat 
and languid manner. So that you reckon bis very 
action a sort of painting. 

A. Right. But we must farther conclude, 
that to paint well, we must imitate nature ; and 

* Omnis enim motus aniini suum quendam a natura ha- 
bet vultum et souum, et gestum : totumque corpus hominis, et 
ejus omnis vultus omnesque voces, ut nervi in fidibus, ita so- 
nant, ut a motu animi quoque sint pulsa?. 

Cic. dc Orat. lib. iii. sect. 57. 

t Gestus quantum habeat in oratore momenti, satis vel 
ex eo patet quod pleraque etiam citra verba significat, 
Quippe uon manus solum, sed nutus etiam declarant nostram 
voluntatem; et in mutis pro sermone sunt — Contra si gestus 
ac vultus ab oratione dissentiat, tristia dicamus hilares, amr- 
memus aliqua renuentes, non auctoritas modo verbis, sed 
etiam fides desk. Quikt. lib. xi. cap. 3. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 93 

observe what she does when she is left to herself, 
and is not constrained by art. 
B. That is plain* 

A. Now, doth a man naturally use many ges- 
tures when he says common things, without vehe- 
mence, or the least mixture of any sort of pas- 
sion ? 

B. No. 

A. On such common subjects, then, we ought 
not to use any action in public discourses ; or at 
least but little ; for there we ought always to fol* 
low nature ;* nay, there are some occasions 
where an orator might best express his thoughts 
by silence. For if, being full of some great sen- 
timent, he continued immoveable for a moment; 
this surprising pause would keep the minds of the 
audience in suspence, and express an emotion too 
big for words to utter. 

B. I doubt not but such unexpected pauses, 
seasonably employed, would be very significant, 
and powerfully affect the hearers. But, sir, you 

* Unum jam his adjicienduni est, cum praecipue in actione 
spectetur decorum, saepe aliud alios decern. Est enim latens 
quaedam in hoc r ntio, et inenarrabilis : et ut vere hoc dictum 
est, caput esse artis, decere quod facias — Quare norit.se quis- 
que ; nee tanlum ex communibus praeceptis, sed etiam ex na- 
tura sua capiat consilium formandae actionis. 

Qui .nt. lib, xi. cap. 3. 



94 DIALOGUES 

seem to think that one who speaks in public ought 
to use no other action than what is proper for or- 
dinary conversation. 

A. You mistake me, sir : I think the sight of 
a great assembly, and the importance of the sub- 
ject an orator treats of, ought to animate him far 
more than if he were talking familiarly with his 
friends. But both in private, and in public, he 
ought always to act naturally. He should use 
some action when his words are moving : but 
when his expressions are quite calm and simple^ 
there is no occasion to move the body, except it 
be in the gentlest manner. Nothing appears 
more shocking and absurd, than to see a man very 
warm and active, when he is saying the driest, 
coldest things. Though he sweats himself, he 
chills the blood of his audience. Some time ago$ 
I happened to fall asleep at a sermon, as you know 
one is apt to do in the afternoon : (and, indeed, in 
former times they preached but once a-dny, after 
the gospel in the morning service:) but I soon 
waked and found Ihe preacher in a very violent 
agitation ; so that. I fancied, at first, that he was 
pressing some important point of morality — 

B. What was the matter then ? 

A. He was only giving notice, that on the 
Sunday following he would preach upon repent- 
ance. I was extremely surprised to hear such 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 95 

an indifferent thing uttered with so much vehe- 
mence ; and must have laughed-out, if tlie regard 
1 had for the place, and some other circumstances, 
had not restrained me. The pronunciation of 
these declaimers is exactly like their gesture : 
for, as their voice is a perpetual monotony ; so there 
is a uniformity * in their gesture, which is no less 
nauseous and unnatural.; and equally contrary to 
the good effect which one might expect from de- 
cent action. 

* " In the delivering of sermons, a great composure of 
u gesture and behaviour is necessary to give them weight and 
*' authority. Extremes are bad here, as in every thing else. 
u Some affect a light and flippant behaviour; and others 
%t think that wry faces, and a tone in the voice, will set off the 
" matter. Grave and composed looks, and a natural but dis- 
" tinct pronunciation, will always have the best effects. The 
<c great rule, which the masters of rhetoric press much, can ne- 
" ver be enough remembered, that to make a man speak well, 
" and pronounce with a right emphasis, he ought thoroughly 
" to understand all that he says; be fully persuaded of it; 
" and bring himself to have those affections which he desires 
" to infuse into others. He that is persuaded of the truth of 
" what he says, and has a concern about it in his mind, will 
" pronounce with a natural vehemence, which is far more 
" lively than all the strains that art can lead him to. An 
" orator, if we hearken to him, must be an honest man, and 
" speak always on the side of truth, and study to feel all that 
" he says; and then he will speak it so as to make others feel 
" it likewise/' Discourse of the Pastoral Care, chap. ix. 



P6 DIALOGUES 

B. You said that sometimes they have not 
action enough. 

A. We cannot wonder at that; for they do 
not discern the things which require warmth and 
earnestness : they waste their spirits in saying 
the plainest things ; and so are forced to utter 
those things faintly which ought to be delivered 
with a vehement action. I must own, indeed, that 
the French are not very capable of this vehemence : 
for they are too airy, and do not conceive things 
with sufficient strength : and therefore they do not 
speak with a proper energy. The Romans had a 
wonderful talent this way, and the Greeks a 
greater. The eastern nations excelled in if ; and 
particularly the Hebrews. Nothing can equal the 
Strength and vivacity of the figures which they 
employed in their discourse ; and the very ac- 
tions they used to express their sentiments ; such 
as putting ashes on their heads, and tearing their 
garments, and covering themselves with sack- 
cloth, under any deep distress and sorrow of mind. 
I do not speak of what the prophets did to give a 
more lively representation of the things which 
they foretold ; because such figurative actions 
were the effect of divine inspiration. But even in 
other cases, we find that those people understood 
much better than we do, how to express their 
grief, and fear, and other passions* And hence > 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 97 

no doubt, arose those surprising effects of elo- 
quence, which we never experience now. 

B. You approve, then, of many different ges- 
tures, and various* inflexions of the voice ? 

A. It is that variety which gives so much 
grace and force to the action of an orator, and 
made Demosthenes far excel all others. The 
more easy and familiar that the voice and action 
appear, when the speaker only narrates, explains, 
or instructs ; the more apt he will be to surprise 
and move the audience in those parts of his dis- 
course, where he grows suddenly vehement, and 
enforces lofty affecting sentiments by a suitable 
energy of voice and action. This due pronuncia- 
tion is a kind of music,t whose beauty consists 

* In omni vcce, est quiddam medium; sed suum cuique : 
him: gradatim adscendere vocem utile, et suave est; (nam a 
principio clamare agreste quiddam est ;) et illud idem ad fi r- 
mandum est vocem saiutare : deinde est quiddam conten- 
tions extremum est item contra quiddam in remissione 

gravissimum, quoque tamquam sonorum gradibus descenditur. 
Haec varietas, et hie per omnes sonos vocis cursus, et se tuebi- 
tur, et actioni afferet suavitatem. 

Cic. tie Or at. lib. iii. sect. 61. 

f Ornata est pronunciation cui suftragatur vox faciils, 
magna, beata, flexibilis, firma, dulcis, durabilis, clara, para, 
secans aera, auribus sedens. Est enim quaedam ad auditum 
accommodata, non magnitudine sed proprietate, ad hoc velut 
tractabilis; utique habeas omnes in se q-'ii de-iderantur sonos 

ti 



98 DIALOGUES 

in the variety of proper tones, and inflexions of the 
voice, which ought to rise or fall with a just and 
easy cadence, according to the nature of the things 
we express. It gives light as well as grace to lan- 
guage ; and is the very life and spirit of discourse. 
B. According to your notions of elocution, it 
is an art unknown to our greatest orators. The 
preacher whom you and I heard, about a fortnight 
ago, did not observe your rule ; nor even seem to 
endeavour it. Except the first thirty words of his 
sermon, he spake always in the same tone ; and 
the only sign I could perceive of his being more 
vehement in some parts of his discourse, than in 
others, was, that when he seemed earnest, he 
spoke faster than at other times. 

ntentionesque, et toto ut aiunt organo instructa -Illud ve- 

ro maximum, quod secundum rationem rerum de quibus dici- 
mus, animorumque habitus, conformanda vox est, ne ab ora- 
tione discordet. Vitemus igitur illam quae Graece povoTovia 
vocatur, una quaedam spiritus ac soni intentio : non solum ne 
dicamus clamose, quod insanum est: aut intra loquendi mo- 
dum, quod motu caret; aut summisso mumure, quo etiam 
debilitatur omnis intentio : sed ut in iisdem partibus, iisdem- 
que affectibus, sint tamen quaedam non ifca magnae vocis decli- 
nationes, prout aut verborum dignitas, aut sententiarum na- 
tura, aut depositio, aut inceptio, aut transitus postulabit : ut 
qui singulis pinxerunt coloribus, alia tamen eminentiora, alia 
reductiora fecerunt; sine quo ne membris quidem suas lineas 
dedissent.* Quint, lib. xi. cap. 3. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 99 

A. To me, sir, Lis voice seemed to have two 
tones ; though they were not well adapted to his 
words. You observed justly enough, that he did 
not follow the rules of pronunciation ; and I be- 
lieve he did not perceive the need of them. His 
voice is naturally melodious ; and though it be ill 
managed, it is, however, pleasing enough. But 
you see plainly that it does not make those strong 
affecting impressions on the mind which it would 
produce, if it had such various inflexions as are 
proper to express the speaker's sentiments. Such 
preachers are like fine clocks, which give a clear, 
full, soft, agreeable sound ; but, after all, they are 
only clocks, of no significancy : and having no 
variety of notes, they are incapable of harmony or 
eloquence. 

B. But were there not many graces in the ra- 
pidity of his discourse ? 

A. Yes : and I grant, that in some affecting, 
lively passages one ought to speak faster than 
usual. But it is a great fault to speak with so much 
precipitation, that one cannot stop himself, nor be 
distinctly understood. The voice and action bear 
some resemblance to verse. Sometimes we must 
use such a slow and grave measure, as is fit to de- 
scribe things of that character : and sometimes a 
short, impetuous one, to express what is quick aud 

a S 



100 DIALOGUES 

ardent. To use always the same degree of action, 
and the same tone of voice, is like prescribing one 
remedy for all distempers. But we ought to ex- 
cuse the uniformity of that preacher's voice and 
action : for, besides his possessing many excellent 
qualities, the fault we complain of, is the natural 
effect of his stile. We have already agreed, that 
the modulation of the voice should be exactly suited 
to the words. Now, his stile is even and uniform, 
without the least variety. On the one hand, it is 
not familiar, insinuating, and popular : and, on the 
other, it has nothing in it lively, figurative, and 
sublime : but it consists of a constant flow of words, 
which press one after the other ; containing a close 
and well-connected chain of reasoning on clear 
ideas. In a word, he is a man who talks good sense 
very correctly. Nay, we must acknowledge that 
he has done great service to the pulpit : he has 
rescued it from the servitude of vain declaimers ; 
and filled it himself with much strength and dig- 
nity. He is very capable of convincing people : 
but I know few preachers who persuade and move 
them less than he doth. If you observe carefully, 
you will even find that his way of preaching is not 
very instructive : for, besides his not having a 
familiar, engaging, pathetic manner of talking, as 
I observed before ; his discourse does not in the 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. ]Qi 

least strike the imagination,* but is addressed to 
the understanding only. It is a thread of reasoning, 
which cannot be comprehended without the closest 
attention. And since there are but few hearers ca- 
pable of such a constant application of mind, they 
retain little or nothing of his discourse. It is like 
a torrent, which hurries along at once, and leaves 
its channel dry. In order to make a lasting im- 
pression on people's minds, we must support their 
attention by moving their passions : for dry in- 
structions can have but little influence. But the 



* " The senses and imagination are fruitful and inex- 
u haustible sources of mistakes and delusion : but the un- 
" derstanding, or mind, acting by itself, is not so subject to 

" error We cannot always speak so as to affect the senses 

66 and imagination of others: nor ought we always to endea- 
u vour it. When a subject is abstracted, we can seldom render 
u it sensible [or apt to strike the imagination,] without mak- 
" ing it obscure : it is enough if it be made intelligible. No- 
" thing can be more unjust than the usual complaints of those 
" who would know every thing, and yet will not apply them- 
" selves to any thing. They take it amiss when we require 
" their attention ; and expect that we should always strike 
" their fancy, and continually please their senses and their 
" passions. But it is not in our power to gratify them. The 
" authors of romances and comedies are obliged thus to please 
" and amuse them : but, as for us, it is enough if we can in- 
" struct those who are truly attentive." 

Ma lb ram cue's Jieclicnhe dc la Yerite, lib. iii. cap. 1. 



102 DIALOGUES 

thing which I reckon least natural in this preacher, 
is the continual motion he gives his arms; while 
there is nothing figurative nor moving in his 
words. The action used in ordinary conversation, 
would suit his stile best : or his impetuous gesture 
would require a stile full of sallies and vehemence : 
and even then he ought to manage his warmth bet- 
ter, and render it less uniform. In fine; I think he 
is agreat man, but not an orator. A country preach- 
er, who can alarm his hearers, and draw tears from 
them, answers the end of eloquence better than 
he.* 

B. But how shall we know the particular 
gestures, and the inflexions of voice, which are 
agreeable to nature ? 

A. I told you before, that the whole art of 
good orators consists in observing what nature 
does when unconstrained. You ought not to imi- 
tate those haranguers who choose always to de- 



* A very remarkable instance of this was M. Bridaine, 
when he preached in the church of St. Sulpice, in Paris, 1751, 
before a numerous congregation, many of whom were bishops, 
ecclesiastics, and persons of the first rank. See the account 
of him given by the Abbe Maury in his Principles of Elo~ 
quence. 

Docente in ecclesia te, non clamor populi, sed gemitus 
suscitetur; lacrymae auditorum laudes tuae sunt. 

Jerom. ad Nepot. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 103 

claim, but will never talk to their hearers. On 
the contrary, you should address yourself to an 
audience in such a modest, respectful, engaging 
manner, that each of them shall think you are 
speaking to him in particular. And this is the 
use and advantage of natural, familiar, insinuating 
tones of voice. They ought always to be grave 
and becoming ; and even strong and pathetic, 
when the subject requires it. But you must not 
fancy that you can express the passions by the 
mere strength of voice ; like those noisy speakers, 
who, by bawling and tossing themselves about, 
stun their hearers, instead of affecting them. If 
we would succeed in painting and raising the pas- 
sions, we must know exactly what movements they 
inspire. For instance; observe what is the pos- 
ture, and what the voice, of one, whose heart is 
pierced with sorrow, or surprised at the sight of 
an astonishing object : remark the natural action 
of the eyes ; what the hands do ; and what the 
whole body. On such occasions nature appears, 
and you need only follow it : if you must employ 
art,* conceal it so well under an exact imitation, 
that it may pass for nature itself. But, to speak 

Ton ya,^ y te^v/i nriKei^, w>t a>v (pv<ri$ hvou Jox^* n 
V r *■»_ » \ H „ o / / / 

Loxginus, sect, xxii, 



104: DIALOGUES 

the truth, orators, in such cases, are like poets 
who write elegies or other passionate verses ; they 
must feel* the passion which they describe, else 
they can never paint it well. The greatest art 
imaginable can never speak like true passion! and 
undisguised nature. So that you will always be 
but an imperfect orator, if you be not thoroughly 
moved with those sentiments which you paint, 
and would infuse into others. Nor do I say this 
from a pious motive : I speak now only as an 
orator.;]; 

* Ut ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adsunt 
Humani vultus. Si vis me flere, dolendum est 

Primum ipsi tibi 

male si mandata loqueris, 

Aut dormitabo, aut ridebo. Tristia maestum 
Vultum verba decent : iratum plena minarum. 
Format enim natura prius nos intus ad omnem 
Fortunarum babitum; juvat, aut impellit ad iram, 
Aut ad humum maerore gravi deducit, et angit : 
Post effert animi motus interprete lingua. 

Hor. de Art. Poet. 

f Qocppuv yctg utpopicraifjLEV hv &<; adzv zruq cog to ytwufov 
9raSo$ tv5cc yjpr, [AEyaKriyopov, coo~7T£p vmo (xaviocq rwoq 9 xca 
itvtvpu\Q<&> EvSovo-iurMti Ik7Tvbov 9 koci olovet (fokQd^ov TtfJ 
hoyvq. Long in us, sect. viii, 

X Neque fieri potest, ut doleat is qui audit, ut oderit, ut 
invideat, ut pertimescat aliquid, nisi omnes ii motus quos ora- 
tor adhibere volet judici, in ipso oratore impressi, atque inusti 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 105 

B. The case, I think, is abundantly plain : 
but you spoke to us of the eyes : have they their 
rhetoric too ? 

A. Yes ; if you will believe Tully,* and 
other ancient orators. Nothing is more intelli- 
gible than the aspect : it expresses every passion 
of the soul. And in the aspect, the eyes are most 
active and significant. One well-timed look will 
pierce to the bottom of the heart. 

B. The preacher we were speaking of, has 
usually his eyes shut. When we observe him 
near, it is very shocking. 

A. It is disagreeable, because we perceive 

videbuntur — ut enim nulla materies tarn facilis ad exarde- 
scendum est, quae nisi admoto igni ignem concipere possit : 
sic nulla mens est tarn ad comprehendendam vim oratoris pa- 
rtita, quae possit incendi, nisi inflammatus ipse ad earn, et 

ardens accessens. Cic. de Qrat. lib. ii. sect. 45. 

* Sed in ore sunt omnia. In eo autem ipso dominatus est 

omnis oculotum Animi enim est oninis actio ; et imago 

animi vultus est, indices oculi. Nam lnec est una pars cor- 
poris quae quot animi motus sunt, tot significationes, et com- 

mutationes possit efncere Oculi sunt quorum turn inten- 

tione, turn remissione, turn conjectu, turn hilaritate motus 
animorum significemus apte cum genere ipso orationis : est 
enim actio quasi sermo corporis ; quo magis menti congruens 

esse debet. Quare in hac nostra actione secundum vocem 

vultus valet : is autem oculis gubernatur. 

Cic. de Orat. lib. iii. sect. 59. 



106 DIALOGUES 

that he wants one of the chief things, which ought 
to enliven his discourse. 
B. But why does he so ? 

A. He makes haste to pronounce his words; 
and shuts his eyes, because it helps his labouring 
memory, 

B. I observed, indeed, that it was very much 
burdened 2 sometimes he repeated several words 
to find out the thread of his discourse. Such re- 
petitions make one look like a careless school-boy 
who has forgotten his lesson. They are very dis- 
agreeable ; and would not be easily excused in a 
preacher of less nqte ? 

A. It is not so much the preacher's fault, as 
the defect of the method which he follows, after 
many others. So long as men preach by heart, 
and often, they will be apt to fall into this per- 
plexity. 

B. How do you mean ? would you have us 
not preach by heart ? without doing so, one could 
not make an exact, pithy discourse. 

A. I am not against a preacher's getting some 
particular sermons by heart. They may always 
have time enough to prepare themselves for ex- 
traordinary occasions. And they might even ac* 
quit themselves handsomely without such great 
preparation. 

B. How ? this seems incredible, 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 107 

A. If I be mistaken, I shall readily own it. 
Let us only examine the point without preposses- 
sion. What is the chief aim of an orator ? Is it 
not to persuade ? And in order to this, ought he 
not to affect his hearers, by moving their passions ? 

B. I grant it. 

A. The most lively and moving way of 
preaching is therefore the best. 

B. True : what do you conclude from that ? 

A. Which of two orators will have the most 
powerful and affecting manner ; he who learns 
his discourse by heart; or he who speaks without 
reciting word for word what he had studied ? 

B. He, I think, who has got his discourse by 
heart. 

A. Have patience, and let us state the ques- 
tion right. On the one hand, I suppose a man 
prepares his discourse exactly, and learns it by 
heart to the least syllable. On the other hand, I 
suppose another person who fills his mind with 
the subject he is to talk of; who speaks with 
great ease ; (for, you would not have any body 
attempt to speak in public,* without having pro- 
per talents for it :) in short; a man who has at- 

* En;o nee studium sine divite vena, 



Nee rude quid prosit video ingenium- 



Hon. dc Art. Foet. 



108 DIALOGUES 

tentively considered all the principles and parts 
of the subject he is to handle, and has a compre- 
hensive view of them in all their extent ; who 
has reduced his thoughts into a proper method, 
and prepared the strongest expressions to explain 
and enforce them in a sensible manner ; who 
ranges all his arguments, and has a sufficient 
number of affecting figures : such a man certainly 
knows every thing which he ought to say, and the 
order in which the whole should be placed : to 
succeed, therefore, in his delivery,* he wants no- 

* " He, then, that would prepare himself to be a preacher 
" in this method, must accustom himself to talk freely to 
" himself, to let his thoughts flow from him ; especially when 
" he feels an edge and heat upon his mind : for then happy 

iC expressions will come in his mouth. He must also be 

" writing essays upon all sorts of subjects; for by writing he 
" will bring himself to a correctness both in thinking and in 
" speaking : and thus, by a hard practice for two or three 
" years, a man may render himself such a master in this way, 
" that he can never be surprised ; nor will new thoughts ever 
(i dry up upon him. He must talk over to himself the whole 
" body of divinity, and accustom himself to explain and 
" prove, to clear objections, and to apply every part of it to 

" some practical use. And if, in these his meditations, 

" happy thoughts, and noble, tender expressions, do at any 
u time offer themselves, he must not lose them, but write 

" them down. By a very few years' practice of two or 

" three of such soliloquies a-day, chiefly in the morning,, 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 109 

thing but those common expressions, which must 
make the bulk of his discourse. But do you be- 
lieve, now, that such a person would have any 
difficulty in finding easy, familiar expressions ? 

B. He could not find such just and handsome 
ones as he might have hit on, if he had sought 
them leisurely in his closet. 

A. I own that. But, according to you, he 
would lose only a few ornaments ; and you know 
how to rate that loss, according to the principles 
which we laid down before. On the other side, 
what advantage must he not have in the freedom 
and force of his action, which is the main thing. 
Supposing that he has applied himself much to 
composing, (as Cicero* requires of an orator;) 
that he has read all the best models ; and has a 
natural or acquired easiness of stile and speech ; 

" when the head is clearest and the spirits are liveliest, a 
" man will contract a great easiness both in thinking and 
" speaking." 

Bishop Burnet's Disc, on the Past. Care, p. 210, 211. 

* Caput autem est, quod, ut vere dicam, minime facimus, 
(est enim magni laboris, quern plerique fugimus) quam pluri- 
mum scribere — Stilus optimus, et prsestantissimus diceudi ef- 
fector, ac magister ; neque injuria : nam si subitam et fortui- 
tam orationem, commentatio, et cogitatio facile vincit ; hanc 
ipsam profecto assidua ac diligens scriptura superabit, 

De Ot at. lib. i. sect. 33. 



110 DIALOGUES 

that he has abundance of solid knowledge arid 
learning ; that he understands his subject per- 
fectly well, and has ranged all the parts and 
proofs of it in his head : in such a case we must 
conclude, that he will speak with force, and or- 
der,* and readiness. His periods, perhaps, will 
not soothe the ear so much as the others ; and 
for that reason he must be the better orator. His 
transitions may not be so fine : it is no great mat- 
ter : though he might have prepared these with- 
out getting them by heart. Besides, these little 
omissions were common to the most eloquent ora- 
tors among the ancients. They thought such 
negligence was very natural ; and ought even to 
be imitated, to avoid the appearance of too great 
preparation. What then could our orator want ? 
He might make some little repetition : but that, 
too, must have its use. Not only will the judi- 
cious hearer take a pleasure in observing nature 
here, which leads one often to resume whatever 
view of the subject strikes strongest upon the 
mind ; but likewise this repetition imprints the 
truth more deeply, which is the best manner of 
instruction. At the worst, one might find, in his 

* _ CU J Jecta potenter erit res, 



Nee facundia deserit banc, nee lucidus ordo. 
Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur. 

IIor. de Art, Poet* 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. m 

discourse, some inaccuracy of construction, some 
obsolete word that lias been censured by the Aca- 
demy ; something that is irregular ; or, if you 
will, some weak or misapplied expression, which 
lie may happen to drop in the warmth of action. 
But surely they must have narrow souls, who can 
think such little escapes worth any one's notice. 
There is abundance of these to be met with in the 
most excellent originals.* The greatest orators 
among the ancients neglected them : and if our 
views were as noble as theirs, we should not so 
much regard those trifles, t which can amuse none 
but such as are not able to discern and pursue 
what is truly great. Excuse my freedom, sir : if 

* TletfotTG&sp£9&* #' &y. oXiyzx, ncti at/Tog Gcy.ac'h;y.y?ix i v.:4rl 
O/z-Jjptf, x«i tojv ochXw oa-oi yfytfoi, y.sa quira ToTq Trial? puzem 

a(>ecr%ousv(& j 9 ouu<; oe ity ccuoc^TYjyu.a, ya^Xov aircc Ixb&i& 
y.c&XuJv, '/? 'mccpoqccfjictla, &l oty&ciav, ay.q ttov jtai u$ kTvyj.* 
Izro pzya'Ko(pv\oiq aysTrir&Taq vraLaBpevefyEta* 

Long in us, sect, xxxiii. 

f Sunt delicto tamen, quibus ignovisse velimus: [mens: 
Nam neque chorda sonum redd it quern vult manus et 
Poscentique gravem perswpe remittit acutum: 
Nee semper feriet quodcunque minabitur arcus. 
Verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, Don e. 
Otfendar maculis, quas aut iucuria fudit, 

Aut hum an a pa rum cavit Datura 

Hob. 4 Art \ 



112 DIALOGUES 

I did not think you had a genius very different 
from these little cavilling critics whom I con- 
demn, I should speak of them with greater 
caution. 

B. You may always speak your mind, sir, 
without any reserve on my account. Be pleased, 
therefore, to go on with your comparison. 

A. Consider then, in the next place, the ad- 
vantages which a preacher must have, who does 
not get his sermon by heart. He is entirely mas- 
ter of himself; he speaks in an easy, unaffected 
way, and not like a formal declaimer. Things 
flow then from their proper source. If he has a 
natural talent for eloquence, his language must be 
lively and moving : even the warmth* which ani- 

* " But the rule I have observed last, is the most neces* 
" sary of all ; and without it all the rest will never do the 
" business : it is this ; that a man must have in himself a 
" deep sense of the truth and power of religion : he must 
" have a life and flame in his thoughts with relation to these 
" subjects : he must have felt himself those things which he 
" intends to explain and recommend to others. He must ob- 
" serve narrowly the motions of his own mind ; that so he 
" may have a lively heat in himself when he speaks of them; 
" and that he may speak in so sensible a manner, that it may 
" be almost felt that he speaks from his heart. There is an 
" authority in the simplest things that can be said, when they 
" carry visible characters of genuineness in them. Now, if 
" a man can carry on this method ; and, by much meditation 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 1J3 

mates him, must lead him to such pertinent ex- 
pressions and figures, as he could not have found 
out by study. 

B. Why ? Surely a man may enliven his 
fancy, and compose very sprightly discourses in 
his closet. 

A. I own that : but a just elocution and ges- 
ture must still give them a greater life and spirit. 
Besides, what one says in the ardour of action, is 
tar more natural and affecting ; it has a negligent 
air, and discovers none of that art which is visible 
in all elaborate compositions. We may farther 
add, that a skilful, experienced orator* adapts 
things to the capacity of his hearers ; and varies 
bis discourse, according to the impression which 

*• and prayer, draw down divine influences, which are always 

" to be expected when a man puts himself in the way of 

" them, and prepares himself for them, he will always fee], 

" that while he is musing, a fire is kindled within him; and 

" then he will speak with authority, and without constraint : 

" his thoughts will be true, and his expressions free and 

* easy." 

Discourse of the Pastoral Care, p. Ill, 112. 

* Erit igitur hrec facultas in eo quern volumus esse elo- 
quentem, ut definire rem possit; neque id facial tarn presse 
et anguste, quam in illis eruditissimis disputationibus fieri so- 
let, sed cum explanatius, tuni etiam uberius, et ad commune 
judicium, popularemque intelligentiam accommodatius. 

Cic. Orat, sect. 33. 
1 



114 DIALOGUES 

lie sees it makes upon their minds. For he easily 
perceives whether they understand him or not, 
and whether he gains their attention and moves 
their hearts : and, if it be needful, he resumes the 
same things in a different manner, and sets them 
in another light ; he clothes them in more familiar 
images and comparisons ; or he goes back to the 
plainest principles, from which he gradually de- 
duces the truths he would enforce ; or he endea^ 
vours to cure those passions which hinder the 
truth from making a due impression. This is the 
true art of instruction and persuasion : and with- 
out this address and presence of mind, we can 
only make roving and fruitless declamations. 
Observe now how far the orator, who gets every 
thing by heart, falls short of the other's success. 
If we suppose, then, a man to preach who de- 
pends entirely on his memory, and dares not pro- 
nounce a word different from his lesson, his style 
will be very exact ; but, as DionysiusHalicarnas-* 
sus observes of Isocrates, his composition must 
please more when it is read, than when it is pro- 
nounced. Besides, let him take what pains he 
will, the inflexions of his voice will be too uni- 
form, and always a little constrained, He is not 
like a man who speaks to an audience, but like a 
rhetorician who recites or declaims. His action 
must be awkward and forced : by fixing his eyes 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 115 

too much, he shews how much his memory labours 
in his delivery : and he is afraid to give way to 
an unusual emotion, lest he should lose the thread 
of his discourse. Now, the hearer perceiving 
such an undisguised art, is so far from being 
touched and captivated, as he ought to be, that 
he observes the speaker's artifice with coldness 
and neglect. 

B. But did not the ancient orators do what you 
condemn ? 

A. I believe not. 

B. What ! do you think that Demosthenes and 
Tully did not learn by heart those finished orations 
which they have left us ? 

A. We know very well that they composed 
and wrote their harangues, before they spake in 
public: but we have several reasons to believe 
that they did not get them by heart, word for word. 
Even the orations of Demosthenes, as we have 
them, shew rather the sublimity and vehemence 
of a great genius, who was accustomed to speak 
powerfully of public affairs, than the accuracy 
and politeness of an author. As for Cicero, in 
several places of his harangues we find things 
spoken on sudden emergencies, which he could 
not possibly have foreseen. And if we take his* 

* Sed verborum memoria, quae minus est nobis necessa- 
ria, majore imaginum varietate distinguitur : niulta enim 

i2 



116 DIALOGUES 

opinion of tMs matter; he thinks an orator ought 
io have a great memory : and he even speaks of an 
artificial kind of memory as a useful invention : 
but all he says on this point does not imply that we 
ought to learn every word by heart. On the con- 
trary, lie seems only to require, that we should 
range all the parts of a discourse exactly in our 
memory, and prepare the figures and chief expres- 
sions which we are to use ; so as to be ready to add, 
off-hand, whatever may occasionally be suggested 
from a view of the audience, or unexpected acci- 
dents. And it is for this reason, that he requires 
so much application and presence of mind in an 
orator. 

B. You must allow me to tell you, sir, that 
all this does not convince me : for I cannot believe 
that one can speak so very well, without having 
prepared and adjusted all his expressions. 

C. The reason why it is so hard to persuade 
you in this case, is, because you judge of the mat- 
ter by common experience. If they who get their 
sermons by heart, were to preach without that pre- 

sunt verba, quae quasi articuli connectunt membra orationis, 
quae formari similitudine nulla possunt : eorum fingendae no- 
bis sunt imagines, quibus semper utainur, Iterum meinoria, 
propria est oratoris : earn singulis personis bene positis notare 
possumus, ut sententias imaginibus, ordinem locis compre- 
Jieijdamus. De Orat. lib. ii. sect. 88. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 117 

pnration, it is likely they would succeed but very 
ill : nor am I surprised at it ; for they are not ac- 
customed to follow nature : they have studied 
only to compose their sermons, and that too with 
affectation. They have never once thought of 
speaking* in a noble, strong, and natural manner. 

* " This leads me to consider the difference that is be- 
M tvveen the reading and the speaking of sermons. Reading 
u is peculiar to this nation, and is endured in no other. It 
" has indeed made our sermons more exact; and so has pro- 
" duced to us many volumes of the best that are extant. 
" But, after all, though some few read so happily, pronounce 
" so truly, and enter so entirely into those affections which 
u they recommend, that in them we see both the correctness 
u of reading, and the seriousness of speaking, sermons; yet 
¥ every one is not so happy. Some, by hanging their head 
" perpetually over their notes, by blundering as they read; 
" and, by a cursory running over them, do so lessen the mat- 
" ter of their sermons, that as they are generally read with 
" very little life or affection, so they are heard with as little 
" regard or esteem. Those who read, ought certainly to be 
" at a little more pains, than for the most part they are — ■ 
11 to read true; to pronounce with an emphasis; to raise 
" their head, and to direct their eyes to their hearers ; and 
" if they practised more, alone, the just way of reading, they 
" might deliver their sermons with much more advantage. 
u Man is a low sort of creature; he d<;es not (nay, the 
" greater part cannot) consider things in themselves, without 
" those little seasonings that must recommend them to their 
" affections. Besides, the people (who are too apt to cen- 



118 DIALOGUES 

Indeed the greatest part of preachers have not a 
sufficient fund of solid knowledge to depend on, 
and are, therefore, afraid to trust themselves, 
without the usual preparation. The method of 
getting sermons by heart qualifies many, who 
have hut very scanty and superficial parts, to 
make a tolerable figure in the pulpit ; seeing they 
need only lay together a certain number of pas- 
sages and remarks : and however little genius or 
assistance a man has, he may, with time and ap- 
plication, be able to work up and polish his mat- 
ter into some form. But to preach with judgment 
and strength, requires an attentive meditation 
upon the first principles of religion, an exact 
knowledge of morality, an insight into antiquity, 
strength of reasoning, and suitable action. Is not 
this, sir, what you require in an orator who does 
not learn his discourse by heart? 

A . You have explained my thoughts exactly. 
Only it may not be improper to add, that though 
a man should not possess all these qualities in a re- 
markable degree, he may yet preach very well, if 
he has a solid judgment, a tolerable stock of know- 
ledge, and an easy way of speaking. For in this 

" sure the clergy) are easily carried into an obvious reflection 
u 'uu reading, that it is an effect of laziness." 

Discourse vf the Pastoral Care, chap. ix. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 119 

method, as in the other, there may be different 
degrees of eloquence. You may further observe, 
that most of those who preach without getting 
their sermons by heart, do not prepare themselves 
enough. They ought to study their subject with 
the closest attention ; prepare all those moving 
passages which should affect the audience; ant 
give the several parts of their discourse such an 
order as will best serve to set the whole in the 
most proper light. 

B. You have oftentimes spoken of this order: 
do you mean any thing else by it than a division 
of the subject ? perhaps you have some peculiar 
notion on this point too. 

A. You think that you rally me : but, in good 
earnest, I am as singular in my opinion upon this 
head, as on any other. 

B. I easily believe you. 

A. It is certainly so : and since we have fallen 
upon this subject, I will shew you how far I think 
the greater part of orators are defective in the 
point of order. 

B. Since you are so fond of order, I hope you 
do not dislike divisions. 

A. I am far from approving them. 

B. Why? do they not methodize a discourse ? 
A. For the most part, divisions give only $ 

seeming order; while they really mangle and clog 



120 DIALOGUES 

a discourse, by separating it into two or three 
parts; which must interrupt the orator's action, 
and the effect which it ought to produce* There 
remains no true unity * after such divisions ; see- 
ing they make two or three different discourses, 
which are joined into one, only by an arbitrary 
connexion. For, three sermons preached at dif- 
ferent times, (if they be formed upon some regular 
concerted plan, as the sermons in Advent usually 
are,) make one piece, or entire discourse, as much 
as the three points of any of these sermons make 
one whole, by being joined and delivered together. 
B. What is it, then, that you mean by order ? 
How confused must a discourse be which is not di- 
vided? 

A. Do you think there is more confusion in the 
orations of Demosthenes and Tully, than in the 
sermons of your parish preacher? 

B. I do not know — I believe not. 

A . You need not be afraid of giving your judg- 
ment too freely. The harangues of these great 
men are not divided as our sermons are. Nay p 



* " A text being opened, then the point upon which the 
a sermon is to run is to be opened : and it will be the better 
" heard and understood, if there he but one point in a ser- 
41 Tiion : so that one head, and only one, is well stated and 
" fully set out." Discourse of the I as tor a I Care, p. 194. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 121 

Isocrates, of whom we spake so much before, and 
other ancient orators, did not follow our method 
of dividing. The fathers of the church knew no- 
thing of it. Even St. Bernard, the last of them, 
only gives a hint of some divisions, and does not 
pursue them, nor divide his discourses in form. 
And for a long time after him, sermons were not 
divided : it is a modern invention, which we owe 
originally to the scholastic divines. 

B. 1 grant, that the school-men are a very bad 
model for eloquence : but what form did /the an- 
cients use to give their discourses ? 

A. They did not divide them ; but they 
pointed out carefully all those things which ought 
to be distinguished : to each of them they assigned 
its proper place ;* after having attentively consi- 
dered where it might be introduced to the best 
advantage, and be fittest to make a due impres- 
sion. Oftentimes that which would seem nothing 
to the purpose, by being unseasonably urged, has 
a very great weight, when it is reserved for its 
proper place; till the audience be prepared by 

* Ordinis ha*c virtus erit, et Venus, aut ego fallor, 
Ut jam nunc dicat, jam nunc debentia dici 
Pleraque differat, et praesens in tempus omittat — 
Infelix operis summa, quia ponere totum 

Nesciet 

Ho a. de Art. Poet. 



122 DIALOGUES 

other tilings to feel all its force and consequence. 
Nay, a single word, when happily applied, will 
set the truth in the strongest light. Cicero tells us, 
that we ought sometimes to delay giving a full 
view of the truth till the very conclusion. But 
then, throughout our discourse there ought to rim 
such a concatenation of proofs, as that the first may 
make way for the second : and the next always 
serve to support the former. We ought at first to 
give a general view of our subject, and endeavour 
to gain the favour of the audience by a modest in- 
troduction,* a respectful address, and the genuine 
marks of candour and probity. Then we should 
establish those principles on which we design to 
argue ; and in a clear, easy, sensible manner pro- 
pose the principal facts on which we are to build ; 
insisting chiefly on those circumstances of which 
we intend to make use afterwards. From these 
principles and facts we must draw just conse- 
quences ; and argue in such a clear and well- 
connected manner, that all our proofs may support 

* Sed haec adjuvant in oratorc, lenitas vocis, vultus, pu- 
doris significatio, verborum comitas : si quid persequare 
acrius, ut invitus, et coactus facere videare. Facilitatis, li- 
beralitatis, mansuetudinis, pietatis grati animi, non appeten- 
tis, non avidi sigua proferri perutile est — Tan turn autem effi- 
eitur sensli quodam ac ratione dicendi, ut qn isi mores orato- 
ris eftngat oratio. Cic. de Qrat. lib. ii. sect. 43. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 123 

each oilier; and so be the more easily remem- 
bered. Every step we advance, our discourse 
ought to grow stronger; so that the hearers may 
gradually perceive the force and evidence of the 
truth : and then we ought to display it in such 
lively images and movements as are proper to ex- 
cite the passions. In order to this, we must know 
their various springs, and the mutual dependence 
they have one upon another; which of them we 
can most easily move and employ to raise the rest; 
and which of them, in fine, is able to produce the 
greatest effects ; and must therefore be applied to, 
in the conclusion of our discourse. It is oft-times 
proper, at the close, to make a short recapitula- 
tion, in which the orator ought to exert ail his 
force and skill in giving the audience a full, clear, 
concise view of the chief topics on which he has 
enlarged. In short; one is not obliged always to 
follow this method without any variation. There 
are exceptions and allowances to be made for dif- 
ferent subjects and occasions. And even in this 
order which 1 have proposed, one may find an 
endless variety. But now you may easily see, 
that this method, which is chiefly taken from 
Tuliy, cannot be observed in a discourse which is 
divided into three parts : nor can it be followed in 
each particular division. We ought, therefore, 
to choose some method, sir; but such a method ae 



124 DIALOGUES 

is not discovered and promised in the beginning 
of our discourse. Cicero tells us, that the best 
method is generally to conceal the order we fol- 
low, till we lead the hearer to it without his being 
aware of it before. I remember he says, in ex- 
press terms, that we ought to conceal even the 
number of our arguments; so that one shall not be 
able to count them, though they be very distinct 
in themselves : and that we ought not plainly to 
point out the division of a discourse. But such is 
the undistinguishing taste of these latter ages, that 
an audience cannot perceive any order, unless the 
speaker distinctly explain it in the beginning ; and 
even intimate to them his gradual advances from 
the first to the second, and following general heads 
or subdivisions of his discourse. 

C. But do not divisions help to support the at- 
tention, and ease the memory, of the hearers ? It 
is for their better instruction that the speaker di- 
vides his discourse. 

A. A division chiefly relieves the speaker's 
memory : and even this effect might be much 
better obtained by his following a natural order, 
without any express division ; for, the true con- 
nexion of things best directs tile mind. Our com- 
mon divisions are of use to those only who have 
studied, and been trained up to this method in the 
schools. And if the common people retain the 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 125 

division better than the rest of the sermon, it is 
only because they hear it often repeated : but, ge- 
nerally speaking, they best remember practical 
points, and such things as strike their senses and 
imagination. 

B. The order you propose may be proper 
enough for some subjects ; but it cannot be fit for 
all ; for we have not always facts to lay down. 

A. When we have none, we must do without 
them : but there are very few subjects into which 
they might not be aptly introduced. One of Pla- 
to's chief beauties is, that in the beginning of his 
moral pieces lie usually gives us some fragment of 
history, or some tradition, which serves as the 
foundation of his discourse. This method would 
far more become those who preach religion ; 
which is entirely founded upon tradition, history, 
and the most ancient records. Indeed, most 
preachers argue but weakly, and do not instruct 
people sufficiently, because they do not trace 
back things to these sources. 

B. We have already given you too much 
trouble, sir, and I am almost ashamed to detain you 
longer : but I wish heartily you would allow me to 
ask you a few more questions, concerning the rules 
pf a public discourse. 

A. With all my heart : I am not yet weary : 



155 DIALOGUES 

you mny dispose, as you please, of the little time 
1 have left. 

B. Well, then, you would -have all false and 
trifling ornaments entirely banished from a dis- 
course. Now, though you touched upon this 
point before, pray shew me, by some sensible ex- 
amples, how to distinguish such false beauties 
from those which are solid and natural. 4 * 

A. Do you love quavering notes in music? 
Are you not better pleased with those brisk signi- 
ficant notes, which describe things, and express 
the passions ? 

B. Yes, certainly ; for quavers are of no use : 
they only amuse the ear, and do not affect the 
mind. Our music was once full of them ; and was 
therefore very weak and confused : but now we 
begin to refine our taste, and to come nearer the 



* False eloquence, like the prismatic glass, 
Its gaudy colours spreads on ev'ry place; 
The face of nature we no more survey, 
All glares alike, without distinction gay. 
But true expression, like th* unchanging sun, \ 

Clears and improves whatever it shines upon ; \ 

It gilds all objects, but it alters none. J 

Expression is the dress of thought, and still 
Appears more decent, as more suitable. 

Pope's Essay on Criticism. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 127 

music of the ancients; which is a kind of passion- 
ate declamation, that acts powerfully upon the 
soul. 

A. I knew that music, of which you are so 
good a judge, would serve to make you under- 
stand what concerns eloquence. There ought to 
be a kind of eloquence in music itself: and in both 
these arts we ought to reject all false and trilling 
beauties. Do you not perceive now, that by a 
trilling discourse, I mean the humming jingle of 
languid, uniform periods? a chiming of words 
which returns perpetually, like the burden of a 
song ? This is the false eloquence which resem- 
bles bad music* 

B. I wish, sir, you could make it a little 
plainer still. — ^ 

A. The reading of good and bad orators will 
more effectually form your taste, on this point, 

* " Harmony is plainly pointed out by nature, which 
1 hath attempered the ear to musical delight ; insomuch, that 
i it is all ravished whenever it is struck with a proper combi- 
' nation of sounds. To render the harmony lastingly agree- 
' able, it is necessary it should be supported and enlivened 
' with a well-judged variety; by means of which, the ear be- 
6 ing hit in different ways, and feeling those successive per- 
' cussions at different intervals of time, it may still be re- 
freshed, and kept awake with an entertainment ever new.* 
Tordycf, on the Action of the Putyit, 



128 DIALOGUES 

than all the rules in the world. However it were 
easy to satisfy you by some pertinent examples. 
1 will not mention any modern ones, though we 
abound in false ornaments. That I may not offend 
any person, let us return to Isocrates, who is the 
standard of those nrce and florid harangues which 
are now in vogue. Did you ever read his famous 
\ panegyric on Helen ? 

B. Yes: I have read it some time ago* 

A. How did you like it ? 

B. Extremely well. I thought I never saw 
/ so much wit, elegance, sweetness, invention, and 

delicay, in any composition. I own to you, (hat 
Homer himself, whom 1 read afterwards, did not 
seem to have so much spirit as lie. But now that 
you have shewn me what ought to be the true aim 
of poets and orators, I see plainly that Homer, who 
concealed his art, vastly surpasses Isocrates, who 
took so much pains to display his skill. But I 
was once charmed with that orator, and should 
have been so still, if you had not undeceived me. 
M r# * * * { s the Isocrates of our day : and I per- 
ceive, that by shewing the defects of that ancient 
orator, you condemn all those who imitate his flo- 
rid, effeminate rhetoric. 

A. I am now speaking of Isocrates only.— In 
the beginning of his encomium, he magnifies the 
love which Theseus had for Helen, and fancied 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 129 

that he should give a lofty idea of her, by de- 
scribing the heroic qualities of that great man who 
fell in love with her : as if Theseus (whom the 
ancients always represent as weak and inconstant 
in his amours,) could not have been smitten with 
a woman of a moderate beauty. Then he comes 
to the judgment which Paris formed of her. lie 
says that a dispute having arisen among the god- 
desses, concerning their beauty, they agreed to 
make Paris judge of it ; upon which occasion Juno 
proffered him the empire of Asia *. Minerva as- 
sured him of constant victory in battles : and Ve- 
nus tempted him with the beautiful Helen. Now, 
seeing Paris, when he was to determine this mat* 
ter, could not behold the faces of these goddesses, 
because of their dazzling splendour^ he could only 
judge of the worth of the three things which they 
offered : and, upon the comparison, he preferred 
Helen to empire, and to victory. Then the orator 
praises the judgment of Paris, in whose determi- 
nation the goddesses themselves acquiesced; and 
adds these remarkable words :* " I wonder that 
' any one should think Paris indiscreet in choos- 

Qocv[j,a.^cij d el nq o'tera* ttotxvq /SebyAs^^Oat to* [jlbtx 

rS&ycrctyr Tso-r.. lie!. Laud. 

K 



130 DIALOGUES 

t " ing to live with her, for whom many demi-gods 

Sl u would have been willing to' die." 

C. This puts me in mind of our preachers, 
who are so full of antitheses and turns of wit. 
There are a great many such orators as Iso- 
c rates. 

A. He is their master! all the rest of his pa- 
negyric is of the same strain.* It is founded on 
the long war of Troy ; the calamities which the 
Greeks suffered for the rape of Helen, and the 
praise of beauty which has so much power over 
men. There is nothing solidly proved, nor the 
least point of moral instruction in the whole dis- 
course. He judges of the worth of things only 
according to men's extravagant passions. And 
as his proofs are weak, so his stile is flourished 
and finical. I quoted this passage, profane as it 
isj because it is a very famous one ; and because 
this affected manner is very much in fashion. 
The more grave discourses of Isocrates are com- 
posed in the same spruce effeminate way ; and 

* His very next words are these :- TLw<; ¥ tK av em 

avQY)T& el tu; §za,<; eibaq ttb^I xoihtovt; (pi'hovetitova'ots, ccvroq 
h.ol\?.cv$ y.ocrs(provr l (7e 9 xai (jliq rotvTyv ivoimcti peyirr,* swou ru>v 

ixi-euv, 7Ttp) r\c y.oL zxcivxq l&pa, p&hirac o , mTovoa.( t ov<ra.q\ 

Isocrat. ILL Land. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 131 

are full of such false beauties as what I now men- 
tioned. 

C. I find you like none of those witty turns 
which have nothing in them either solid, natural, 
or affecting; and tend neither to convince, nor 
paint, nor persuade. The example you have 
brought from Jsocrates, though it be upon a 
trifling subject, is yet very pertinent ; for all such 
tinsel wit must appear still more ridiculous, when 
it is applied to grave and serious matters. 

A. But, sir, as to Isocrates, do not you think 
I had reason to censure him as freely as Tully as- 
sures us Aristotle did ? 

B. What says Tully? 

A. That Aristotle,* perceiving Isocrates had 
perverted eloquence from its proper use to amuse- 
ment and ostentation, and thereby drawn to him- 
self the most considerable disciples, he applied to 
him a verse of Philoctetes, to shew how much he 
was ashamed of being silent, while that vain de- 
claimer carried all before him. But I have done 
now : it is time for me to be going. 

B. We cannot part with you so soon, sir: 
will you, then, allow of no antitheses ? 

A. Yes : when the things we speak of are 
naturally opposite one to another, it may be pro- 

* Lib. ili. sect. S7< 

K 2 



132 DIALOGUES 

per enough to shew their opposition. Such anti- 
theses are just, and have a solid beauty, and a 
right application of them is often the most easy 
and concise manner of explaining things. But it 
is extremely childish to use artificial turns and 
windings, to make words clash and play one 
against another. At first, this may happen to 
dazzle those who have no taste : but they soon 
grow weary of such a silly affectation. Did you 
ever observe the Gothic architecture of our old 
churches ? 

B. Yes : it is very common. 
A. Did you take notice of the roses, holes, un* 
connected ornaments, and disjointed little knacks, 
of which these Gothic buildings are full ? These 
odd conceits are just such beauties in architecture, 
as forced antitheses and quibbles are in eloquence, 
The Grecian architecture is far more simple, and 
admits of none but natural, solid, and majectic or- 
naments : 'we see nothing in it but what is great, 
proportioned, and well-placed. But the Gothic 
kind was invented by the Arabians ; who, being a 
people of a quick sprightly fancy, and having no 
rule, nor culture, could scarce avoid falling into 
these whimsical niceties. And this vivacity cor- 
rupted their taste in ail other things. For, they 
used sophisms in their logic; they loved little 
knacks in architecture ; and invented witticisms 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 



too 



in poetry and eloquence. All these are of th@ 
same kind. 

B. This is curious indeed. You think, then, 
that a sermon, full of forced antitheses, and such 
kind of ornaments, is like a church built in the 
Gothic way. 

A. Yes : I think the comparison is just. 

B. Let me ask you but one question more, 
and then you shall go. 

A. What is it ? 

B. It seems very difficult to give a particular 
account of facts in a noble style : and jet we ought 
to do so, if we talk solidly, as you require. Pray, 
what is the proper style for expatiating in such 
cases? - 

A. We are so much afraid of a low strain, that 
our expressions are usually dry, lifeless, and inde- 
terminate. They who praise a saint, pitch on the 
most magnificent phrases ? they tell us he was an 
admirable person ; that his virtues were celestial ; 
that he was rather an angel than a man. And thus 
the whole encomium is a mere declamation, with- 
out any proof; and without drawing a just charac- 
ter. On the contrary, the ancient Greeks made 
little use of these general terms which prove no- 
thing: but they insisted much on facts, and the 
particulars of a character. For instance, Xeno- 
phon does not once say in all his Cyropaedia, that 



134 DIALOGUES 

Cyrus was an admirable man : but throughout the 
work he makes us really admire him. Thus it is 
that we ought to praise holy persons, by entering 
into the particular detail of their sentiments and 
actions. But there prevails an affected politeness 
among the pedantic and conceited part of all ranks 
and professions, who value themselves upon their 
wit or learning. They never venture to use any 
expression but what they reckon fine and uncom* 
mon. They talk always in a high strain;* and 
w r ould think it beneath them to call things by their 
proper names. Now, in true eloquence almost 
every thing may be introduced. The perfection 
of poetry itself, which is the loftiest kind of com* 
position, depends on a full and lively description 
of things, in all their circumstances. When Virgil 
represents the Trojan fleet leaving the African 
shore, or arriving on the coast of Italy, you see 
every proper circumstance exactly described. But 
we must own that the Greeks entered still further 
into the particular detail of things ; and followed 

* Prima est eloquentiae virtus perspicuitas ; et quo quis- 
que ingenio minus valet, hoc se magis attollere, et dilatare 
conatur : ut statura breves in digitos eriguntur; et plura in- 
firmi minantur. Nam tumidos, et corruptos, et tinnulos, et 
quocunque alio cacozelise genere peccantes, certum habeo, 
non virium, sed infirmitatis vitio laborare : ut corpora non 
robore, sed valetucline, inflantur.^— Quikt. lib. ii. cap. 3. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. ]S5 

nature more closely in representing the smallest 
circumstances. For which reason, many people 
would be apt, if they dared, to reckon Homer too 
plain and simple in his narrations. In this an- 
cient, beautiful simplicity, which few are able to 
relish, this poet very much resembles the holy 
scripture : but in many places the sacred writings 
surpass his, as much as he excels all the other 
ancients, in a natural and lively representation of 
things. 

B. In relating facts, then, ought we to de- 
scribe every individual circumstance which be- 
longs to them? 

A. No: we should represent nothing to the 
hearers but what deserves their attention, and 
helps to give a clear and just idea of the things 
we describe : so that it requires great judgment 
to make a right choice of circumstances.* But 
Ave must not be afraid of mentioning 1 such as can 
be any way serviceable : for it is a false politeness 
which leads us to suppress some useful things, 
because we do not think them capable of any 
ornament. Besides, Homer has shewn us by his 
example, that we might give a proper grace and 
embellishment to every subject, t 

* See Longinus, sect. 10. 

f First follow nature, and your judgment frame 
By her just standard, which is still the same: 



136 DIALOGUES 

B. Since you condemn the florid, swelling 
style, what kind do you reckon fittest for public 
use ? 

A. There ought to be a variety of style in 
every discourse. We should rise in our expres- 
sion when we speak of lofty subjects ; and be fa- 
miliar* on common ones, without being coarse or 
groyelling ? In most cases, an easy simplicity 
and exactness is sufficient : though some things 
require vehemence and sublimity. If a painter 
should draw nothing but magnificent palaces, he 
could not follow truth, but must paint his own 
fancies, and by that means soon cloy us. He 

Unerring nature, still divinely bright. 
One clear, unchang'd, and universal light; 
Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart, 
At once the source, and end, and test, of art. 
Art from that fund each just supply provides, 
Works without show, and without pomp presides. 
Those rules of old discovered, not devis'd, 
Are nature still, but nature methodiz'd \ 
Nature, like monarchy, is but restrained 
By the same laws which first herself ordainM. 

Pope's Essay on Criticism. 

nriKWTEpoy* £7nyivu>c-KETca yu(> olvtqSbv Ik ry xou/S /3ty. To 
«g avvrfitq yj&yj k^qtbpov Tuvroo yap Ifyvq Trapa^vei to* 

Lo^ginus, sect. 31. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 137 

ought to copy nature in its agreeable varieties ; 
and, after drawing a stately city, it might be pro- 
per to represent a desart, and the huts of shep- 
herds. Most of those who aim at making fine 
harangues, injudiciously labour to clothe all their 
thoughts in a pompous, gaudy dress:* and they 
fancy that they have succeeded happily, when 
they express some general remarks in a florid, 
lofty style. Their only care is to fill their dis- 
course with abundance of ornaments, to please 
the vitiated taste of their audience : like ignorant 
cooks, who know not how to season dishes in a 
proper, natural way ; but fancy they must give 
them an exquisite relish, by mixing excessive 
quantities of the most seasoning tilings. But the 
style of a true orator has nothing in it swelling or 
ostentatious : he always adapts it to the subjects 
he treats of, and the persons he instructs : and 
manages it so judiciously, that he never aims at 

* Namque illud genus ostentationi compositum, solum 
petit audientium voluptatem : ideoque omnes dicendi ai tes 
aperit, ornatumque orationis expomt— Mala affectatio, per 
omne dicendi genus peccat. Nam et tumiua, et exilia, et 
praedulcia, et abundantia, et arcessita, et exultantia sub 
idem nomen cadunt. Denique kccko^Xov vocatur, quicquid 
est ultra virtu tern ; quoties ingenium judicio caret, et specie 
boiii ralletur; omnium et eloquentia vitiorum pessimura : nam 
cetera cum vitentur, hoc petitur. Quint, lib. viii. cap. 3. 



138 DIALOGUES 

being sublime and lofty, but when he ought to be 



so. 



* 



B. What you said, concerning the language 
of scripture, makes me wish earnestly that you 
would shew us the beauty of it. May we not see 
you some time to morrow ? 

A. I shall hardly have time to morrow; but 
I will endeavour to wait on you this evening : 
and, since you seem so desirous of it, we will talk 
of the word of God ; for hitherto we have only 
spoken of the language of men. 

C. Farewell, sir : I beg of you to be punc- 
tual; otherwise we must come and find you out. 



THE 

THIRD DIALOGUE. 



C. I BEGAN to fear, sir, that you would not 
come ; and was very near going to look for you 
at Mr. . 

* The style most fit for the pulpit, is thus defined hy Dr. 
Fordyce. " I would call it, in a few words, simple, yet 
" great; adorned, yet chaste; animated and strong, at the 
" same time easy, and somewhat diffuse : and, in fine, nu- 
" merous and flowing, without running into the poetical, or 
* swelling into bombast." Eloquence of the Pulpit. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 139 

A. I was detained by a perplexing affair, 
which I had upon my hands : but I have got rid 
of it to my satisfaction. 

B. I am very glad of it ; for we wanted you 
extremely to finish the subject we were talking of 
in the morning. 

C. Since I parted with you, sir, I heard a 

sermon at , and I thought of you. The 

preacher spoke in a very edifying manner ; but I 
question whether the common people understood 
him or not.* 

A. It happens but too often, as I heard an in- 
genious lady observe, that our preachers speak 
Latin in English. The most essential quality of 
a good preacher, is to be instructive : but he 
must have great abilities and experience to make 
him so. On the one hand, he must be perfectly 
acquainted with the force of scripture-expressions : 
on the other, he must understand the capacity of 
those to whom he preaches, and adapt himself to 

* " Always consider yourself as speaking to the common 
" people, and not to the learned : therefore ask yourself, on 
u every article, will that husbandman, that mun or maid $er- 
" vant, who hears me, profit from this, &c. ?" 

OsTERVAr.D's Lect. iii. 
" Too close a thread of reasoning, too great an abstrao 
" tion of thought, too sublime and too metaphysial a strain, 
•• are suitable to very few auditories, if to any at all." 

Bun NET. 



140 DIALOGUES 

it. Now, this requires a solid knowledge, and 
great discernment. Preachers speak every day 
to people of the scripture, the church, the Mosaic 
law, the gospel ; of sacrifices ; of Moses, and 
Aaron, and Melchisedec ; of the prophets and 
apostles : but there is not sufficient care taken to 
instruct the people in the true meaning of these 
things, and in the characters of those holy per- 
sons. One might follow some preachers twenty 
years, without getting sufficient knowledge of 
religion. 

B. Do you think that people are really igno- 
rant of those things which you mentioned ? 

C. For my part, I believe they are ; and 
that few or none understand them enough to re- 
ceive any benefit from sermons. 

B. That may be true of the lowest rank of 
people. 

C. Well; ought not they to be instructed as 
well as others ? do not they make up thp bulk of 
mankind ? 

A. The truth is, persons of rank and fashion 
have but little more knowledge of religion than 
the common people. There are always three 
fourth-parts of an ordinary audience, who do not 
know those first principles of religion, in which 
the preacher supposes every one to be fully in- 
structed. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 141 

B. Would you, then, have him explain the 
catechism in his sermons to a polite congregation ? 

A. I grant there is a due regard to be had to 
an audience ; and discretion to be used in adapt- 
ing a discourse to their capacity. But still, 
without giving the least offence, a preacher might 
remind the most discerning hearers of those pas- 
sages of the sacred history, which explain the 
origin and institution of holy things. This way 
of having recourse to the first foundations of reli* 
gion, would be so far from seeming low, that it 
would give most discourses that force and beauty 
which they generally want. This is particularly 
true with regard to the mysteries of religion ; for 
the hearers can never be instructed, nor per- 
suaded, if you do not trace things back to their 
source. For example, how can you make them 
understand what the church says, after St. Paul, 
1 Cor. v. 7, that Jesus Christ is our passover, if 
you do not explain to them the Jewish passover* 
which was appointed to be a perpetual memorial 
of their deliverance from Egypt, and to typify a 
more important redemption, which was reserved 
for the Messiah ? It is for this reason I said^ that 
almost every thing in religion is historical. And 
if preachers would have a full knowledge of this 
truth, they must be very conversant with the 
scripture- ■ 



142 DIALOGUES 

B. You must excuse my interrupting you on 
this subject, sir : you told us in the morning that 
the scriptures are eloquent ; and I was glad to 
hear you say so.* Let me entreat you to shew 
us how we may discern the beauties of scripture, 
and in what its eloquence consists. The Latin 
bible seems to me most vulgar and inaccurate. I 
see no delicacy in it. What is it, then, that you so 
much admire ? 

A. The Latin is only a literal version, in which, 
out of respect to the original, there are many Greek 
and Hebrew phrases detained. Do you despise 
Homer, because he has been sorrily translated into 
French ? 

B. But the Greek itself, which is the original 
language of the New Testament, appears to me 
very coarse and impolite. 

A. The apostles were not acquainted with the 
genuine Greek, but used that corrupted kind which 
prevailed among the Hellenistic Jews. For this 
reason St. Paul says, ' I am rude in speech, but 

* " In the sacred volumes, there are to be found thoughts 
* so sublime, expressions so energetic, descriptions so elo- 
" quent, allegories so well chosen, sentences so profound, 
" ejaculations so pathetic, sentiments so tender, that we 
" should adopt them from taste, if we were so unhappy fls 
" not to search af er them from a principle of zeal and piety. - 
Abb6 Maury's Principles of Eloquence. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 143 

i not in knowledge,' 2 Cor. xi. 6. It is very ob- 
vious that the apostle here only meant he was not 
a master of the Greek tongue ; though he solidly 
explained the doctrine of the holy scripture. 

C. Had not the apostles the gift of speaking 
unknown tongues ? 

A. Undoubtedly : and they even conveyed 
that gift to great numbers of their illiterate con- 
verts. But as for the languages which the 
apostles had learned in a natural way, we have 
reason to believe that the Spirit of God permitted 
them to speak as they did before. St. Paul, who 
was a citizen of Tarsus, in Cilicia, naturally spake 
the corrupted Greek used among the Jews there ; 
and we find that this is the languno^e in which he 
wrote. St. Luke seems to have understood Greek 
a little better. 

C. But I always thought, that in the passage 
you mentioned, St. Paul gave up all pretences to 
oratory ; and regarded nothing but the simpli- 
city of the evangelical doctrine. Nay, I have 
heard several persons of worth and good judg- 
ment affirm, that the holy scripture is not elo- 
quent. St. Jerome was punished for being dis- 
gusted at the simplicity of scripture, and liking 
Tully better. St. Austin, in his confessions, seems 
to have fallen into the same fault. Did not God 
intend to trj our faith by the obscurity, and even 



144 DIALOGUES 

by the lowness of the scripture style, as well as by 
the poverty of our Redeemer ? 

A. You seem, sir, to carry this point too far. 
Whether do you choose to believe St. Jerome 
when he was punished for having followed his 
youthful studies too closely in his retreat, or when 
lie had made the greatest progress both in. sacred 
and profane learning; and, in an epistle to Pau- 
linus, invited him to study the scripture ; assuring 
him, that he would find more charms in the pro- 
phets, than he had discovered in the heathen po- 
ets ? Or, was St. Austin's judgment better in his 
youth., when the seeming meanness of the sacred 
style disgusted him, than when he composed his 
books concerning the Christian doctrine ? There 
he often says that St. Paul was powerfully per- 
suasive ; and that the torrent of his eloquence 
must be perceived by the most inattentive reader. 
He adds, that in the apostle, wisdom did not seek 
after the beauty of language, but that the beau* 
ties of language offered themselves, and attended 
his wisdom. He quotes many lofty passages of his 
epistles; wherein he shews all the art and ad- 
dress of the heathen orators far outdone. St. Aus- 
tin excepts only two things in this comparison i 
he says, that these orators studied the ornaments 
of eloquence, but that the beauties of oratory na- 
turally followed St. Paul, and others of the sacred 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 145 

writers. And then he owns that he did not suffi- 
ciently understand the delicacies of the Greek 
tongue, to be a competent judge, whether there 
be the same number and cadence of periods in the 
sacred text, that we meet with in profane authors. 
I forgot to tell you that he quotes that passage of 
the prophet Amos, which begins thus, ' Wo to 
6 them that are at ease in Zion, and trust in the 
' mountain of Samaria,' chap. vi. 1; arid assures 
us, that in this place the prophet has surpassed 
every thing which is sublime; in the heathen 
orators. 

C. But how do you understand these words of 
St. Paul, ' My speech and my preaching was not 
c with the enticing [persuasive] words of man's 

' wisdom ?' 1 Cor. xi. 4. Does he not tell 

the Corinthians that he came not to preach Clirist 
to them with the sublimity of discourse arid of wis- 
dom ; that lie i knew nothing among them but 
! Jesus, and him crucified : ' that his preaching 
was founded not upon the persuasive language 
of human wisdom and learning, but upon the sen- 
sible effects of the spirit and power of God ; to 
the end, as he adds, ' that their faith should 
' not depend upon the wisdom of men, but on 
4 the power of God.' What is the meaning of 
these words, sir? What stronger expressions 
could the apostle use to condemn this art of per* 

L 



146 DIALOGUES 

suasion which you would establish ? For my 
part, I freely own that at first I was glad when 
you censured all those affected ornaments of dis- 
course, which vain declaimers are so fond of: 
but the sequel of your scheme does not answer the 
pious beginning of it. I find that you would still 
make preaching a human art, and banish aposto- 
lical simplicity from the pulpit. 

A. Though you judge very unfavourably of 
my esteem for eloquence, I am not dissatisfied at 
tlie zeal with which you censure it. However, 
sir, let us endeavour to understand one another 
aright. There are several worthy persons, who 
judge, with you, that eloquent preaching is repug- 
nant to the simplicity of the gospel. But when 
we have mutually explained our sentiments, per- 
haps they may be found to agree. What then 
do you mean by simplicity ? and what do you call 
eloquence ? 

C. By simplicity, I mean a discourse without 
any artifice or magnificence. By eloquence, I 
mean a discourse full of art and ornaments. 

A. When you require an artless simple dis- 
course, would you have it without order and con- 
nexion ; without solid and convincing proofs; and 
without a proper method for instructing the ignor- 
ant ? Would you have a preacher say nothing pa- 
thetic ; and never endeavour to affect the heart ? 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. U1 

C. Far from it: I would have a discourse 
which both instructs and moves people. 

A. That would make it eloquent : for we 
have seen before, that eloquence is the art of in- 
structing and persuading men, by moving their 
passions. 

C. I grant that preachers ought to convince 
and affect their hearers : but I would have them 
to do it without artj by an apostolical simplicity. 

A. The more artless and natural such a con- 
vincing persuasive eloquence is, if must be the 
more powerful. But let us enquire whether the 
art of persuasion be inconsistent with the simpli- 
city of the gospel. What mean you by art ? 

C. I mean a system of rukvS which men have 
invented, and usually observe in their discourses, 
to make them more beautiful, elegant, and plea*- 
sing. 

A. If by art you only mean this invention to 
render a discourse more handsome and polished, 
in. order to please people, I will not dispute with 
you about words ; but will readily acknowledge, 
that this art ought not to be admitted into ser- 
mons ; for, as we agreed before, this vanity is 
unworthy of eloquence, and far more unbecoming 
the sacred function. This is the very point 
about which I reasoned so much with Mr. I> 

hi 



£7 



148 DIALOGUES 

But if by art and eloquence you mean what the 
most judicious writers among the ancients under- 
stood 5 we must then set a just value upon elo* 
quence. 

C. What did they understand by it ? 

A. According to them, the art of eloquence 
comprehends those means which wise reflection 
and experience have discovered to render a dis- 
course proper to persuade men of the truth, and 
to engage them to love and obey it. And this is 
what you think every preacher should be able to 
do. For did you not say that you approved of 
order and a right manner of instruction, solidity 
of reasoning, and pathetic movements; I mean, 
such as can touch and affect people's hearts ? 
Now, this is what I call eloquence i you may give 
it what name you please. 

C. Now I comprehend your notion of elo- 
quence : and I cannot but acknowledge, that such 
a manly, grave, serious manner of persuasion, 
would much become the pulpit; and that it 
seems even necessary to instruct people with suc- 
cess. But how do you understand those words of 
St. Paul which I quoted before ? Do they not 
expressly condemn eloquence ? 

A. In order to explain the apostle's words, let 
me ask you a few questions. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 149 

C. As many as you please, sir. 

A. Is it not true that the apostle argues with 
wonderful strength in his epistles ? Does he not 
reason finely against the heathen philosophers 
and the Jews, in his Epistle to the Romans? Is 
there not great force in what he says concerning 
the inability of the Mosaic law to justify men ? 

C. Certainly. 

A. Is there not a chain of solid reasoning in 
his Epistle to the Hebrews, about the insufficiency 
of the ancient sacrifices ; the rest which David 
promised to the children of God ? besides that 
which the Israelites enjoyed in Palestine, after 
Joshua's days ; concerning the order of Aaron, 
and that of Melchisedec ; and the spiritual and 
eternal covenant which ought to succeed the car- 
nal and earthly one established by the mediation 
of Moses, for a time only ? Are not the apostle's 
arguments on these several subjects very strong 
and conclusive ? 

C. I think they are, 

A. When St. Paul, therefore 3 disclaimed the 
use of \ the persuasive words of man's wisdom,' 
he did not mean to condemn true wisdom and the 
force of reasoning. 

C. That appears plainly from his own ex- 
ample. 

A. Why, then, do you think that he mg^nt 



150 DIALOGUES 

to condemn solid eloquence, any more than true 
wisdom ? 

C. Because he expressly rejects eloquence in 
that passage which I desired you to explain. 

A. But doth he not likewise disclaim wisdom ? 
The place seems to be more express against wis- 
dom, and human reasoning, than against elo- 
quence. And yet he himself reasoned frequently, 
and was very eloquent. You grant that he ar- 
gued well : and St. Austin assures you that the 
apostle was an orator. 

(p ? You plainly point out the difficulty, but 
you do not answer it. Pray, shew us how it is 
to be solved. 

A, St. Paul reasoned much ; he persuaded 
effectually : so that he was really an excellent 
philosopher and an orator. But, as he tells us in 
the place you quoted, his preaching was not 
founded on human reasoning, nor on the art of 
persuasion It was a ministry of divine institu- 
tion, which owed its efficacy to God alone. The 
conversion of the whole world was, according to 
the ancient prophecies, to be the great and stand- 
ing miracle of the Christian religion. This was 
the kingdom of God which came from heaven, and 
was to convert and reduce all the nations of the 
earth to the worship and service of the true God. 
Jesus Christ crucified, by his being declared to 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. ]j\ 

them, was to draw them all to himself merely by 
the power of his cross. The philosophers had 
reasoned and disputed, without converting either 
themselves or others. The Jews had been entrust- 
ed with a law which shewed them their miseries, 
but could not relieve them. All mankind were 
convinced of the general disorder and corruption 
which reigned among them. Jesus Christ came 
with his cross; that is, he came poor, humble, 
and suffering for us. To silence our vain, pre- 
sumptuous reason, he did not argue like the phi- 
losophers, but he determined with authority, By 
his miracles and his grace, he shewed that he was 
above all. That he might confound the false wis- 
dom of men, he sets before them the seeming folly 
and scandal of his cross ; that is, the example of 
his profound humiliation. That which mankind 
reckoned folly,* and at which they were most of- 
fended, was the very thing which should convert 
and lead them to God. They wanted to be cured 
of their pride, and their excessive love of sensible 
objects : and to affect them the more, God shewed 
them his Son crucified. The apostles preached 
him, and walked in his steps. They had not re- 
course to any human means, neither to philosophy, 

* 1 Cor. i. 23, 25. 



152 DIALOGUES 

nor rhetoric, nor policy, nor wealth, nor authorir 
ty. God would have the. sole glory of his work, 
and the success of it, to depend entirely on himself? 
he therefore chose what is weak, and rejected what 
is strong, to display his power in the most sensible 
manner. He brought all out of nothing in the 
conversion of the world, as well as at the creation 
of it. That work, therefore, had this divine charac- 
ter stamped upon it, that it was not founded upon 
any thing which the world admired or valued. It 
would only have weakened and frustrated the won- 
derful power of the cross, as St. Paul says, 1 Cor. 
i. 17, to ground the preaching of the gospel upon 
natural means. It was necessary that, without hu- 
man help, the gospel should, of itself, open 
people's hearts ; and, by that prodigious efficacy, 
shew mankind that it came from God. Thus was 
human wisdom confounded and rejected. Now, 
what must we conclude from hence? This only, 
that the conversion of the nations, and the establish- 
ment of the Christian church, was not owing to the 
learned reasonings, and persuasive words of man's 
wisdom. It does not imply that there was no elo- 
quence nor wisdom in several of those who first 
preached the gospel ; but only, that they did not 
depend on this eloquent wisdom ; nor did they 
study it as a thing which was to give an efficacy to 






CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 153 

their doctrine. It was founded, as the apostle tells 
us,* not upon the persuasive discourses of human 
philosophy ; but solely upon the effects of the Spi- 
rit, and the power of God ; that is, upon the mi- 
racles which struck the eyes and minds of men, 
and upon the inward operation of divine grace. 

C. According to your reasoning, then, they 
make void the efficacy of our Saviour's cross, who 
ground their preaching upon human wisdom and 
eloquence. 

A. Undoubtedly. The ministry of the word 
is entirely built upon faith ; and the preachers of 
it ought to pray, and purify their hearts, and ex- 
pect all their success from heaven. They should 
arm themselves with c the sword of the Spirit, 
f which is the word of God ;' and not depend on 
their own abilities. This is the necessary prepa- 
ration for preaching the gospel. But though the 
inward fruit and success of it must be ascribed to 
grace alone, and the efficacy of God's word ; 
there are yet some things which man is to do on 
his part. 

C. Hitherto you have talked very solidly : 
but I see plainly you are now returning to your 
first opinion. 

A. I did not change it. Do not you believe 

Ovk sv ve&oTq uvvpvTrivvs ao<pioL<; hoyoiq — 1 Cor. ii. 4. 



154 




DIALOGUES 








that th 


e work of our salvation depends 


upon 


God's 




grace ? 












C. 


Yes : it is 


an article of faith. 







A. You own, however, that we ought to use 
great prudence in choosing a right station and 
conduct in life, and in avoiding dangerous temp- 
tations. Now, do we make void the grace of 
God, and its efficacy, by watching, and prayer, 
and a prudent circumspection ? Certainly not. 
We owe all to God ; and yet he obliges us to 
comply with an external order of human means. 
The apostles did not study the vain pomp and 
trifling ornaments of the heathen orators. They 
did not fall into the subtle reasonings of the philo- 
sophers, who made all to depend upon those airy 
speculations in which they lost themselves. The 
apostles only preached Jesus Christ with all the 
force and magnificent simplicity of the scripture 
language. It is true, they had no need of any 
preparation for their ministry ; because the Spi- 
rit, who descended upon them in a sensible man- 
ner, supplied them with words in preaching the 
gospel. The difference, then, betwixt the apostles, 
and their successors in the ministry, is, that these, 
not being miraculously inspired like the apostles, 
have need to prepare themselves, and to fill their 
minds wi(h the doctrine and spirit of the scrip- 
ture, to form their discourses. 13ut this prepara- 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 155 

tion should never lead them to preach in a more 
artless manner than the apostles. Would you 
not be satisfied if preachers used no more orna- 
ments in their sermons, than St. Peter, St. Paul, 
St. James, St. Jude, and St. John, did ? 

C. I think I ought to require no more. And 
I must confess, that since, as you say, eloquence 
consists chiefly in the order, force, and propriety, 
of the words by which men are persuaded and 
moved ; it does not give me so much offence as it 
did. 1 always reckoned eloquence to be an art, 
which is inconsistent with the simplicity of the 
gospel. 

A. There are two sorts of people who have 
this notion of it ; the false orators, who are widely 
mistaken in seeking after eloquence amidst a vain 
pomp of words ; and some pious persons, who 
have no great depth of knowledge : but though, 
out of humility, they avoid that false rhetoric 
which consists in a gaudy, ostentatious style, they 
yet aim at true eloquence, by striving to persuade 
and move their hearers. 

C. I now understand your notions exactly 
well : let us now return to the eloquence of the 
scripture. 

A. In order to perceive it, nothing is more 
useful than to have a just taste of the ancient sim- 
plicity : and this may best be obtained by reading 



15(5 DIALOGUES 

the most ancient Greek authors.* I say the most 
ancient: for those Greeks, whom the Romans so 
justly despised, and called Graeculi, were then 
entirely degenerate. As I told you before, you 
ought to be perfectly acquainted with Homer, 
Plato, Xenophon, and the other earliest writers. 
After that, you will be no more surprised at the 
plainness of the scripture style: for in them you 
will find almost the same kind of customs, the 
same artless narrations, the same images of great 
things, and the same movements. The difference 
betwixt them, upon comparison, is much to the 
honour of the scripture. It surpasses them vastly 
in native simplicity, liveliness, and grandeur. 
Homer himself never reached the sublimity of 
Moses' songs ; especially the last,+ which all the 
Israelitish children were to learn by heart. Never 
did any ode, cither Greek or Latin, come up to 
the loftiness qf the Psalms ; particularly that 
which begins thus : ' The mighty God, even the 
c Lord hath spoken/ ;J; surpasses the utmost stretcfy 

* HLv$eix.vvra.i o' yplv 2t<^ o ar/?p [lIA'ATON] el @v\o\- 

£7n to, v-^YtT^cc reiva. Uoicc Jg xai riq ocvty) ; vj ruv ^^tt^og-^cV 
f/AyuXcov <?vyfpa,<pi(t)v y.oci irowruv plpyaiq rs y.oa lr t Xojc7iqo 
KaJ t«t» ye, (pihTurs, a7rpl| iyup£jct ra VKOirx, 

Longiuus, sect. xiii. 
t Dent, xxx ii. 1—4, 9—13. J Psalms, I. 1—6, 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 157 

of human invention. Neither Homer, nor any 
other poet, ever equalled Isaiah* describing the 
majesty of God, in whose sight ' the nations of 
c the earth are as the small dust; yea, less than 
' nothing, and vanity ;' seeing it is ' he that 
1 stretch eth out the heavens like a curtain, and 
' spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in.' Some- 
times this prophet has all the sweetness of an ec- 
logue, in the smiling images which he gives us of 
peace :t and sometimes he soars so high as to 
leave every thing below him. What is there in 
antiquity that can be compared to the Lamenta- 
tions of Jeremiah, ;£ when he tenderly deplores 
the miseries of his country ? Or to the prophecy 
of Nahum,|l when he foresees, in spirit, the proud 
Nineveh fall under the rage of an invincible army ? 
We fancy that we see the army, and hear the 
noise of arms and chariots. Every thing is paint- 
ed in such a lively manner as strikes the imagina- 
tion. The prophet far out-does Homer. Read 
likewise Daniel^ denouncing to Belshazzar the di- 
vine vengeance ready to overwhelm him ; and try 
if you can find any thing in the most sublime ori- 
ginals of antiquity that can be compared to those 

* Isaiah, xl. 9—28. f See chapters xi. and xxxy. 

t Lam. i. 1, 2, 16, 20; ii. 1, 8, 11, 12, 19, 20, 21; iii. 39. 

|| Nahum, i. 3, 5, 6 ; ii. 1, 3, 4, 8, 9, 10 ; iii. 3, 13, 17, 18. 

§ Chap. y. 15—29. 



158 DIALOGUES 

passages of sacred writ. As for the rest of scrip- 
ture,* every portion of it is uniform and constant ; 
every part bears the peculiar character which be- 
comes it ; the history, the particular detail of laws, 
the descriptions, the vehement and pathetic pas- 
sages, the mysteries^ and prophecies, and moral 
discourses ; in all these appears a natural and 
beautiful variety. In short, there is as great a 
difference betwixt the heathen poets and the pro-* 
phets, as there is betwixt a false enthusiasm and 
the true. The sacred writers, being truly in- 
spired, do, ia a sensible manner, express some- 
thing divine : while the others, striving to soar 
above themselves, always shew human weakness 
in their loftiest flights. The second book of Mac- 
cabees, the book of Wisdom, especially at the 
endj and Ecclesiasticus in the beginning, discover 
the gaudyt swelling style which the degenerate 
Greeks had spread over the East, where their 
lanffua^e was established with their dominion. 
But it would be in vain to enlarge upon all these 
particulars : it is by reading that yoii must disco- 
ver the truth of them. 

B. I long to set about it : we ought to apply 
ourselves to this kind of study more than we do. 

* See the Letter to the Academy, 
f Wisdom, xvii. 17; xviii. £0. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 159 

C. I easily conceive that the Old Testament 
is written with that magnificence, and those lively 
images which you speak of. But you say nothing 
of the simplicity of Christ's words. 

A. That simplicity of style is entirely ac- 
cording to the ancient taste. It is agreeable both 
to Moses and the prophets, whose expressions 
Christ often uses. But though his language be 
plain and familiar, it is, however, figurative and 
sublime in many places. I could easily shew, 
by particular instances, if we had the books here 
to consult j that we have not a preacher of this age 
who is so figurative in his most studied sermons, 
as Jesus Christ was in his most popular discourses. 
I do not mean those that are related by St. John, 
where almost every thing is sensibly divine: I 
speak of his most familiar discourses recorded by 
the other evangelists. The apostles wrote in the 
same manner, with this difference, that Jesus 
Christ, being master of his doctrine, delivers it 
calmly. He says just what he pleases; and 
speaks, with the utmost ease, of the heavenly 
kingdom and glory, as of his Father's house, 
John xiv. 2. All those exalted things which asto- 
nish us, were natural and familiar to him ; he is 
born there ; and only tells us what he saw, 
chap. viii. 38, as he himself declares. On the 
contrary, the apostles sunk under the weight of the 



160 DIALOGUES 

truths which were revealed to them, 2 Cor. xii. 2, 
4, 7. They wanted words, and are not able to 
express their ideas.* Hence flow those digres- 
sions and obscure passages in St. Paul's writings, 
and those transpositions of his thoughts, which 
shew his mind was transported with the abundance 
arid greatness of tlie truths that offered themselves 
to his attention. All this irregularity of style 
shews that the Spirit of God forcibly guided 
the minds of the apostles. But notwithstanding 
these little disorders of their style, every thing in 
it is noble, lively, and moving. As for St. John's 
Revelation, we find in it the same grandeur and 
enthusiasm which there is in the prophets. The ex- 
pressions are oftentimes the same : and sometimes 
this resemblance of style gives a mutual light to 
them both. You see, therefore, tTiat the eloquence 
of scripture is not confined to the books of the Old 
Testament, but is likewise to be found in the New. 
C. Supposing the scripture to be eloqtient, 
What will you conclude from it ? 

* " Yet, after all, there is often found in the apostolic 
11 manner, a sublimity of sentiment, a pomp of description, a 
" clearness, strength, and brevity of precept, a closeness of 
* appeal, a force and abruptness of interrogation, a simpli- 
" city of words, and pathos of address, that are admirable 
" in themselves, and worthy the imitation of every preacher." 

Fordice, Art of Vrtaching, 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 16l 

A. That those who preach it, may, without 
fccruple, imitate, or rather borrow, its eloquence. 

C. We find that preachers do choose those 
passages which they think most beautiful* 

A. But it mangles the scripture thus to shew 
it to Christians only in separate passages. And 
however great the beauty of such passages may 
be, it can never be fully perceived unless one 
knows the connexion of them : for every thing in 
scripture is connected : and this coherence is the 
most great and wonderful thing to be seen in the 
sacred writings; For want of a due knowledge of 
it, preachers mistake those beautiful passages ; 
and put upon them what sense they please; They 
content themselves with some ingenious interpre- 
tations ; which, being arbitrary, have no force to 
persuade men, and to reform their manners. 

Bi What would you have preachers do? 
must they use only the language of scripture ? 

A. I would have them at least not think it 
enough to join together a few passages of scripture 
which have no real connexion. I would have 
them explain the principles* and the series of 
the scripture-doctrine ; and take the spirit, the 
style, and the figures of it ; that all their dis- 
courses may serve to give people a right tinder- 
standing, and true relish of God's word. There 
needs no more to make preachers eloquent : for, 

u 



162 DIALOGUES 

by doing this, they would imitate the best model 
of ancient eloquence. 

B. But in this case we ought, as I said before, 
to explain the several parts of scripture as they 
lie. 

A* I would not confine all preachers to this. 
One might make sermons upon the scripture, 
without explaining the several parts of it as they 
lie. But it must be owned, that preaching would 
be quite another thing, if, according to ancient 
custom, the sacred books were thus explained to 
the people in a connected judicious manner. Con- 
sider what authority a man must have who should 
say nothing from his Own invention • but only fol- 
low and explain the thoughts and words of God. 
Besides, he would do two things at once. By un* 
folding the truths of scripture, he would explain 
the text$ and accustom the people to join always 
the sense and letter together. What advantage 
must they not reap, if they were used to nourish 
themselves with this spiritual bread ? An audi- 
ence, who had heard the chief points of the Mo- 
saic law explained, would be able to receive far 
more benefit from an explication of the truths of 
the gospel, than the greatest part of Christians are 
now. The preacher we spoke of before, has this 
failing, among many great qualities, that his ser- 
mons are trains of fine reasoning about religion ; 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 163 

but they are not religion itself. We apply our- 
selves too much to drawing of moral characters, 
and inveighing against the general disorders of 
mankind ; and we do not sufficiently explain the 
principles and precepts of the gospel* 

C. Preachers choose this way, because it is 
far easier to declaim against the follies and disor- 
ders of mankind 5 than to explain the fundamental 
truths and duties of religion judiciously* To be 
able to describe the corruptions of the age, they 
need only have some knowledge of men and 
things ; and proper words to paint them. But to 
set the great duties of the gospel in a just light, 
requires an attentive meditation and study of the 
holy scriptures. There are but few preachers who 
have such a solid comprehensive knowledge of re* 
ligion, as can enable them to explain it clearly to 
others. Nay, there are some who make pretty 
discourses, andr-yet could not catechise the peo* 
pie, and far less make a good homily. 

A. Very true ; it is here that our preachers 
are most defective. Most of their fine sermons 
contain only philosophical reasonings . Sometimes 
they preposterously quote the scripture, only for 
the sake of decency or ornament i and it is not 
then regarded as the word of God^ but as the in* 
vention of men. 



164 DIALOGUES 

C. You will grant, I hope, that the labours of 
such men tend to make void the cross of Christ. 

A. I give them up ; and contend only for the 
eloquence of scripture, which evangelical preach- 
ers ought to imitate. So that we are agreed on 
this point : provided you will not excuse some 
zealous preachers, who, under pretence of aposto- 
lical simplicity, do not effectually study either the 
doctrine of scripture, or the powerful manner of 
persuasion which we are taught there. They 
imagine that they need only bawl, and speak often 
of hell and the devil. Now, without doubt, a 
preacher ought to affect people by strong, and 
sometimes even by terrible images : but it is from 
the scripture that he should learn to make power- 
ful impressions. There we may clearly discover 
the way to make sermons plain and popular, with- 
out losing that force and dignity which they ought 
always to have. For want of this knowledge, a 
preacher oftentimes doth but stun and frighten 
people : so that they remember but few clear no- 
tions : and even the impressions of terror which 
they received, are not lasting. This mistaken 
simplicity, which some affect, is too often a cloak 
for ignorance : and at best it is such an unedifying 
manner of address, as cannot be acceptable cither 
to God or men* Nothing can excuse such homely 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 165 

preachers, but the sincerity of their intentions. 
They ought to have studied and meditated much 
upon the word of God, before they undertook to 
preach.* A priest who understands the scripture 
fully, and has the gift of speaking, supported by 
the authority of his function, and of a good life, 
might make excellent discourses without great 
preparation : for one speaks easily of such truths 
as make a clear and strong impression on his mind. 
Now, above all things, such a subject, as religion, 
must furnish exalted thoughts, and excite the 
noblest sentiments; which is the design of elo- 
quence. But a preacher ought to speak to his au- 
dience as a father would talk to his children, with 
an affectionate tenderness: and not like a de- 
claimer, pronouncing a harangue with stiffness, 
and an affected delicacy. It were to be wished, 
indeed, that, generally speaking, none were al- 
lowed to feed the Christian flocks but their respec- 
tive shepherds, who ought best to know their 
wants. ]n order to this, none should be chosen 
for pastors, but such as have the gift of preaching. 

* " By incessantly reading the holy scriptures, we learn 
' ,( to speak that spiritual language, which diffuses through a 
" sermon, representations alternately affecting, majestic, or 

A terrible. A Christian orator may, and even ought to, 

" seize upon all the riches which he discovers in these divine 
M books." Abbe Maury's Principles of Eloquence, 



166 DIALOGUES 

The neglect of this occasions two evils ; one is, 
that dumb pastors, and such as speak without abi- 
lities,, are little esteemed. Another evil is, that 
the function of voluntary preachers allures many 
vain, ambitious spirits, who endeavour to distin- 
guish themselves this way. You know, that in 
former ages the ministry of the word was reserved 
for the bishops • especially in the western church. 
You must have heard of St. Austin's case ; that, 
contrary to the established rule, he was obliged to 
preach while he was only a presbyter ; because that 
Yalerius, his bishop and predecessor, was a stran- 
ge? who could not talk easily : this was the begin- 
ning of that custom in the western parts. In the 
East, priests sooner began to preach ; as appears 
from St. Chrysostom's sermons which he made at 
Antioch, when he was only a presbyter. 

C, I grant, that, generally speaking, the office 
of preaching should be reserved for the parochial 
clergy. This would be the way to restore to the 
pulpit that simplicity and dignity which ought to 
adorn it, For, if pastors joined the knowledge of 
the scriptures to their experience in the ministe- 
rial function, and the conduct of souls; they 
would speak in such a way as is best adapted to 
the wants of their flocks. Whereas those preach- 
ers, who give up themselves chiefly to study and 
speculation, are less able to obviate people's preju- 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 167 

dices and mistakes : they do not suit their discourses 
to vulgar capacities ; and insist chiefly on such ge- 
neral points as do not instruct nor affect men ; to say 
nothing of the weight and influence which the 
shepherd's own voice must have among his flock 
above a stranger's. These, methinks, are convin- 
cing reasons for preferring a pastor's sermons be- 
fore those of other people. Of what use are so 
many young preachers, without experience, with- 
out knowledge, and without piety ? It were better 
to have fewer sermons, and more judicious ones. 

B. But there are many priests who are not 
pastors, and who preach with great success. How 
many persons are there of the religious orders, 
who fill the pulpit to advantage ! 

C. I own there are many : and such men 
ought to be made pastors of parishes ; and even be 
constrained to undertake the care of souls. Were 
not anchorets of old forced from their beloyed so* 
Utude, and raised to public stations, that the light 
of their piety might shine in the church, and edify 
the faithful? 

A. But it does not belong to us to regulate the 
discipline of the church. Every age has its pro- 
per customs, as the circumstances of things re» 
quire. Let us shew a regard for whatever the 
church tolerates : aud, without indulging a censo- 



1{J8 DIALOGUES 

rious humour, let us finish our character of a wor«? 
thy preacher. 

C. What you have said already, gives rae, I 
think, an exact idea of it. 

A. Let us hear, then, what you reckon neces- 
sary to make a complete preacher. 

C.I think that he ought to have studied so- 
lidly, during his younger days, whatever is most 
useful in the poetry and eloquence of the an-? 
cients.* 

A. That is not necessary. It is true, when 
one has finished such studies successfully, they 
may be of use to him, even towards a right under- 
standing of the scriptures ; as St. Basil has shewn 
in a treatise which he composed on this very sub- 
ject. But, after all, this sort of study is rather useful 
than necessary. In the first ages of the church, 
the clergy found a want of this kind of learning. 
Those, indeed, who had applied themselves to it 
in their youth, turned it to the service of religion,, 

* " The Greek and Roman authors have a spirit in them, 
a a force both of thought and expression, which latter ages; 
" have not been able to imitate, Buchanan only excepted: in 
€i whom, more particularly in his Psalms, there is a beauty, 
" and life, an exactness, as well as a liberty, which cannot be 
" imitated, and scarce enough commended." 

Discourse of the Pastoral Care, chap, viji. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. Ig9 

when tliey became pastors : but such as had ne- 
glected these studies before, were not permitted to 
follow them, when they had once engaged them- 
selves in the study of the sacred writings, which 
were then reckoned to be sufficient. Hence came 
that passage in the Apostolical Constitutions,* 
which exhorts Christians not to read the heathen 
authors. " If you want history," says that book, 
" or laws, or moral precepts, or eloquence, or po- 
" etry, you will find them all in the scriptures." 
In effect, we have already seen, that it is needless 
to seek elsewhere for any thing which is necessary 
to form our taste and judgment of true eloquence. 
St. Austin says, that the smaller stock we have of 
other learning, we ought so much the more to en- 
rich ourselves out of that sacred treasure : and 
that seeing our notions are too scanty to express 
divine things in a proper way, we have need to 
exalt and improve our knowledge, by the autho- 
rity of scripture; and our language, by the dignity 
of its expressions. But I ask your pardon for in- 
terrupting you. Go on, sir, if you please. 

C. Well, then, let us be content with the suf- 
ficiency of scripture. But shall we not add the 
fathers ? 

A. Without doubt: they are the channels of 

* Book i. chap. 6. 



170 DIALOGUES 

tradition. It is by their writings that we learn the 
manner, in which the church interpreted the scrip- 
ture in all ages. 

C. But are preachers obliged to explain every 
passage of scripture, according to the interpreta- 
tions which the fathers have given us ? We find 
that one father gives a spiritual or mystical sense ; 
and another gives a literal one. Now, which 
must we choose ? for there would be no end of 
mentioning them all. 

A. When I affirm, that we ought to interpret 
the scripture, according to the doctrine of the fa- 
thers; I mean, their constant and uniform doc- 
trine. They frequently gave pious interpretations 
which differed very much from the literal sense ; 
and were not founded on the prophetical allusions, 
and the mysterious doctrines of religion. Now, 
since these interpretations are arbitrary, we are 
not obliged to follow them ; because they did not 
follow one another. But in those places where they 
explain the sentiments of the church, concerning 
points of faith or practice, it is not allowable to 
explain the scripture in a sense contrary to the 
doctrine of the fathers. This is the authority 
which we ought to ascribe to them. 

C. This seems clear enough. I would there- 
fore have a clergyman, before he begins to preach, 
be thoroughly acquainted with the doctrine of the 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 171 

fathers, that he may follow it. I would even have 
him study the principles which they laid down for 
their conduct ; their rules of moderation ; and 
their method of instruction. 

A. Right: they are our masters. They had 
an exalted genius : they had great and pious 
souls, full of heroic sentiments. They had a sin- 
gular knowledge of the tempers and manners of 
men ; and acquired a great repute, and a very 
easy way of preaching. We even find that many 
of them were very polite, and knew whatever is 
decent, either in writing or speaking in public ; 
and what is handsome, both in familiar conversa- 
tion, and in discharging the common duties of life. 
Doubtless all this must have conduced to render 
them eloquent, and fit to gain upon people's 
minds. Accordingly, we find in their writings a 
politeness, not only of language, but of sentiments 
and manners, which is not to be seen in the writers 
of the following ages. This just taste and discern* 
ment, (which agrees perfectly well with simpli- 
city, and rendered their persons acceptable, and 
their behaviour engaging,) was highly serviceable 
to religion. And in this point we can scarce imi- 
tate them enough. So that, after the scriptures, 
the knowledge of the fathers will help a preacher 
to compose good sermons. 



178 DIALOGUES 

C. When one has laid such a solid foundation, 
and edified the church by his exemplary virtues ; 
he would then be fit to explain the gospel with 
great authority and good effect. For, by fami- 
liar instructions, and useful conferences, (to which 
we suppose him. to have been accustomed be- 
times,) he must have attained a sufficient freedom 
and easiness of speaking. Now, if such pastors 
applied themselves to all the particular duties of 
their function, as administering the sacraments, 
directing pious souls, and comforting afflicted, or 
dying persons ; it is certain they could not have 
much time to make elaborate sermons, and learn 
them word for word. * The mouth ought to speak 
f from the abundance of the heart,' Mat. xii. 34, 
and communicate to the people the fulness of gos- 
pel knowledge, and the affecting sentiments of the 
preacher. As for what you said yesterday, about 
getting sermons by heart, I had the curiosity to 
seek out a passage in St. Austin which I had read 
before ; it is to this purport, f lie thinks that a 
4 preacher ought to speak in a more plain and 
4 sensible manner than other people : for, since 
f custom and decency will not permit his hearers 
4 to ask him any qiiestions, he should be afraid 
4 of not adapting his discourse to their capacity. 
4 Wherefore, says he, they who get their sermons 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 173 

c by heart, word for word, and so cannot repeat 
i and explain a truth till they see that their hear- 
' ers understand it, must lose one great end and 
c benefit of preaching.' You see by this, sir, 
that St.. Austin only prepared his subject, without 
burdening his memory with all the words of his 
sermons. Though the precepts of true eloquence 
should require more, yet the rales of the gospel 
ministry will not permit us to go farther. As 
for my own part, I have been long of your 
opinion concerning this matter ; because of the 
many pressing necessities in the Christian church, 
which require a pastor's continual application. 
While a priest, who ought to be ' a man of God. 
4 thoroughly furnished unto all good works, 9 
2 Tim. iii. 17, should be diligent in rooting out 
ignorance and offences from the field of the 
church ; [ think it unworthy of him to waste his 
time in his closet, in smoothing of periods, giving 
delicate touches to his descriptions, and inventing 
quaint divisions. When one foils into the method 
and employment of these pretty teachers, he can 
have no time to do any thing else ; he applies 
himself to no other business, or useful kind of 
study : nay, to refresh himself, he is oftentimes 
forced to preach the same sermons over and over 
again. But what kind of eloquence can a preacher 
pretend io % when his hearers know before-hand 



174 DIALOGUES 

all the expressions and pathetic figures he will 
use ? This is a likely way, indeed, to surprise 
and astonish ; to soften, and move, and persuade 
them. This must be a strange manner of conceal- 
ing one's art, and of letting nature speak* To 
tell you freely, sir, this gives me great offence. 
What ! shall a dispenser of the divine mysteries 
be an idle declaimer, jealous of his reputation, 
and fond of vain pomp?* Shall he not dare to 
speak of God to his people, without having 
ranged all his words, and learned his lesson by 
heart like a school-boy ? 

A. I arti very much pleased with your zeal. 
What you say is true* But we must not, how* 
ever, inveigh against this abuse with too much 
violence ; for we ought to shew a regard to per- 
sons of worth and piety, who, out of deference to 
custom, or being prepossessed by example, have, 

* Sed his ornatus, repetam enirii, virilis, fortis et sanctus 
sit — non debet quisquam ubi maxima rerum momenta versan- 
tur, de verbis esse sollicit us— Prima virtus est vitio carere* 
Igitur ante omnia, ne speremus ornatam orationem fore, qusb 
probabilis non erit. Probabile autem, Cicero id genus dicit, 
quod non plus, minusve est quam decet. Non quia comi ex- 
polirique non debeat ; nam et haec ornatus pars est : sed quia 
vitium est, ubique quod nimium est. Itaque vult esse autori* 
tatem et pondus in verbis ; sententias vel graves, vel aptas 
upinionibus hominum ac moribus. — Quint, lib. viii. cap. 3. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 175 

with a good design, fallen into the method which 
you justly censure. But I am ashamed to inter- 
rupt you so often. Go on, I beseech you. 

C. I would have a preacher explain the 
whole plan of religion, and unfold every part of 
it in the most intelligible manner, by shewing the 
primitive institution of things, and pointing out 
the sequel and tradition of them; that, by shew- 
ing the origin and establishment of religion, he 
might destroy the objections of unbelievers, with- 
out offering to attack them openly, lest he should 
thereby lay a stumbling-block in the way of illite- 
rate well-meaning Christians* 

A. That is very right. The best way of prov- 
ing the truth of religion, is to explain it justly ; 
for it carries its own evidence along with it, when 
we represent it in its native purity. All other 
proofs, which are not drawn from the very founda- 
tion of religion itself, and the manner of its propa- 
gation, are but foreign to it. Thus, for instance, 
the best prtiof of the creation of the world, of the 
deluge, and the miracles of Moses, may be drawn 
from the nature of those miracles, and the artless 
impartial manner in which the Mosaic history is 
written. A wise, unprejudiced person needs only 
to read it, to be fully convinced of its truth. 

C. I would likewise have a preacher assidu- 
ously explain to the people, in a connected train, 



176 DIALOGUES 

not only all the particular precepts and mysteries 
of the gospel;* but likewise the origin and instil 
tution of the sacraments, the traditions, the disci- 
pline, the liturgy, and ceremonies of the church. 
By these instructions he would guard the faithful 
against the objections of heretics, and enable them 
to give an account of their faith, and even to af- 
fect such heretics as are not obstinate : he would 
strengthen people's faith; give them an exalted 
notion of religion, and make them receive some 
edification and benefit from what they see in the 
church* Whereas, with the superficial instruc- 
tion which is generally given them at present, 
they comprehend little or nothing of what they 
see ; and have but a very confused idea of what 
they hear from the preacher. It is chiefly for the 
sake of this connected scheme of instruction that I 
would have fixed persons, such as pastors, to 

* " Christianity is not so much a bare system of doo 
i( trines, or of rules, as an institution of life, a discipline of 
" the heart and its affections, a vital and vivifying spirit, a 
" ray of light, sent down from the Father of lights, to illumi- 
" nate a benighted world, and to conduct wandering mortals 
" to a state of perfection and happiness* He into whose miner 
" this all-irradiating and all-quickening light has not shone, 
" is yet dark and dead ; and whilst he continues so himself, 
u how can he enlighten or vivify others?" 

Fordyce, Art of Preaching, 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 177 

preach in every parish. I have often observed, 
that there is no art, nor science, which is not 
taught coherently by principles and method, in a 
connected train of instructions. Religion is the 
only thing which is not taught thus to Christians. 
In their childhood they have a little dry catechism 
put into their hands, which they iearn by rote$ 
without understanding the sense of it. And, after 
that, they have no other instruction but what they 
can gather from sermons upon unconnected gene- 
ral subjects. I would therefore, as you said, have 
preachers teach people the first principles of their 
religion ; and, by a due method, lead them on to 
the highest mysteries of it. 

A. That was the ancient way. They began 
with catechising : after which, pastors taught 
their people the several doctrines of the gospel 
in a connected train of homilies. This instructed 
Christians fully in the word of God. You know 
St. Austin's book, of catechising the ignorant ; and 
St. Clement's tract, which he composed to shew 
the heathen, whom he converted, what were the 
doctrines and manners of the Christian philoso- 
phy. In those days the greatest men were em- 
ployed in these catechetical instructions ; and, 
accordingly, they produced such wonderful ef- 
fects, as seem quite incredible to us. 

C» In fine, I would have every preacher 



178 DIALOGUES 

make such sermons as should not be too trouble- 
some to him> that so he might be able to preach 
often; They oiightj therefore, to be short) that, 
without fatiguing himself, or wearying the people, 
he might preach every Sunday, after the gospel. 
As far as we can judge, those aged bishops who 
lived in former times, and had constant labours to 
employ them, did not make such a stir as our mo- 
dern preachers do in talking to the people in the 
midst of divine service, which the bishops them- 
selves read solemnly* every Lord's day. A 

* u A clergyman must bring his mind to an inward and 
u feeling sense of those things which are prayed for in our of- 
" fices : this will make him pronounce them with an equal 
a measure of gravity and affection, and with a due slowness 
" and emphasis. I do not love the theatrical way of the 
" church of Rome, in which it is a great study, and a long 
" practice, to learn, in every one of their offices, how they 
" ought to compose their looks, gesture, and voice : yet a 
" light wandering of the eyes, and a hasty running through 
u the prayers, are things highly unbecoming : they very much 
" lessen the majesty of our worship, and give our enemies 
" advantage to call it dead and formal, when they see plainly 
" that he who officiates is dead and formal in it. A deep 
* sense of the things prayed for, a true recollection and at- 
" tention of spirit, and a holy earnestness of soul, will give a 
" composure to the looks, and a weight to the pronunciation, 
" which will be tempered between affectation on the one 
u hand, and levity on the other." 

Discourse of the Pastoral Care, chap. viiL 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 179 

preacher now-a-days gets little credit unless he 
comes out of the pulpit sweating and breathless, 
and unable to do any thing the rest of the day. 
The bishop's upper vestment (which was not then 
opened at the shoulders as it is now, but hung 
equally down on all sides,) probably hindered 
him from moving his arms, as some preachers do. 
So that as their sermons were short, so their ac- 
tion must have been grave and moderate* Now, 
sir, is not all this agreeable to your principles ? 
Is not this the idea you gave us of good preach- 
ing ? 

A. It is not mine : it is the current notion of 
all antiquity. The farther I enquire into this 
matter, the more I am convinced that the ancient 
Form of sermons was the most perfect. The pri- 
mitive pastors were great men : they were not 
only very holy, but they had a complete clear 
knowledge of religion, and of the best way to per- 
suade men of its truth ; and they took care to re- 
gulate all the circumstances of it. There is a 
great deal of wisdom hidden under this air of sim- 
plicity ; and we ought not to believe that a better 
method could have been afterwards found out. 
You have set this whole matter in the best light, 
and have left me nothing to add : indeed you 
have explained my thoughts better than I should 
have done it myself. 



180 DIALOGUES 

B. You magnify the eloquence and the ser- 
mons of the fathers mightily. 

A. I do riot think that I commend them too 
much. 

B. I am surprised to see, that after you have 
been so severe against those orators who mix turns 
of wit with their discourses, you should be so in- 
dulgent to the fathers, whose writings are full of 
jingling antitheses and quibbles, entirely contrary 
to all your rules. I wish you would be consistent 
with yourself. Pray, sir, unfold all this to us. 
Particularly, what do you think of Tertullian ? 

A. There are many excellent things in him. 
The loftiness of his sentiments is oftentimes admi- 
rable. Besides, he should be read for the sake of 
some principles concerning tradition, some histori- 
cal facts, and the discipline of his time. But as 
for his style, I do not pretend to justify it. He has 
many false and obscure notions, many harsh and 
perplexed metaphors : and the generality of read- 
ers are most fond of his faults. He has spoiled 
many preachers.* For, the desire of saying some- 

* " One of the greatest and most remarkable proofs of , 
" the strong influence which some imaginations have over 
" others, is the power which some authors have to persuade, 
" without any proof. For example, the turn of words which 
u we find in Tertullian, Seneca, Montaigne, and some other 
u authors, has so many charms, and so much lustre, that they 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 181 

thing singular leads them to study his works ; and 
his uncommon pompous style dazzles them. We 
must, therefore, beware of imitating his thoughts 

H dazzle most readers — Their words, however insignificant, 

" have more force than the reasons of other people 1 pro- 

" test I have a great value for some of Tertullian's works ; and 
" chiefly for his apology against the Gentiles; his book of pr?7 
" scriptions against heretics ; and for some passages of Sene- 
" ca; though I have very little esteem for Montaigne. Tei> 
" tullian was indeed a man of great learning; but he had more 
" memory than judgment — The regard he shewed to the vi- 
" sions of Montanus, and his prophetesses, is an unquestion- 
" able proof of his weak judgment. The disorder of his ima~ 
" gination sensibly appears in the heat, the transports, and 
" enthusiastic flights he falls into, upon trifling subjects — 
" What could he infer from his pompous descriptions of the 
H changes which happen in t;he world? or how could they jus- 
" tify his laying aside his usual dress, to wear the philosophi- 
" cal cloak ? The moon has different phases : the year has 
" several seasons : the fields change their appearance in sum* 
" mer and winter: whole provinces are drowned by inunda- 
" tions, or swallowed up by earthquakes — In fine, all nature 
" is subject to changes: therefore he had reason to wear the 
" cloak rather than the common robe ! — Nothing can excuse 
" the silly arguments and wild fancies of this author, who, in 
" several others of his works, as well as in that de Pallio, says 
" every thing that comes into his head, if it be a far-fetched con- 
" ceit, or a bold expression ; by which he hoped to shew the 
" vigour (we must rather call it the disorder) of his imagina- 
" turn." 

Malbranche's Recherche de la Verity lib. ii. p. 3. cap. 3. 



182 DIALOGUES 

or expressions, and only pick out his noble senti- 
ments, and the knowledge of antiquity. 

B. What say you of St. Cyprian ? is not his 
style too swelling ? 

A. I think it is : and it could scarce be other- 
wise in his age and country. But though his lan- 
guage has a tang of the African roughness, and the 
bombast which prevailed in his days ; yet there is 
great force and eloquence in it. Every where we 
see a great soul who expresseth his sentiments in 
a very noble, moving manner. In some places of 
his works we find affected ornaments :* especially 
in his epistle to Donatus; which St. Austin quotes, 
however, as a letter full of eloquence. He says, 
that God permitted those strokes of vain oratory to 
fall from St. Cyprian's pen, to shew posterity how 

* Locus enim cum die convenit; et mulcendis sensibus, 
ac fovendis, ad lenes auras blandientis autmnni ortorum facies 
amaena consentit. Hie jucundum sermonibus diem ducere, et 
studentibus fabulis in divina praecepta conscientiam pectoris 
erudire. Ac ne colloquium nostrum arbiter profanus impediat, 
aut clamor intemperans familiae strepentis obtundat, petamus 
banc sedem. Dant secessum vicina secreta, ubi dum erratic! 
palmitum lapsus nexibus pendulis per arundines bajulas repunt, 
viteam porticum frondea tecta fecerunt : bene hie studia in 
aures damus; et dum in arbores, et in vites quas videmus, 
oblec^ nte prospectu, oculos amamamus, animum simul et 
auditus instruit, et pascit obtutus. 

Cypr. ad Donat. epist. ii. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 183 

much the spirit of Christian simplicity had, in his 
following works, retrenched the superfluous orna- 
ments of his fctyle ; and reduced it within the bounds 
of a grave and modest eloquence. This, says St. 
Austin, is the distinguishing character of all the 
Letters which St. Cyprian wrote afterwards : which 
we may safely admire and imitate, as being writ- 
ten according to the severest rules of religion; 
though we cannot hope to come up to them with- 
out great application. In fine ; though his letter 
to Donatus, even in St. Austin's opinion, be too 
elaborately adorned ; it deserves, however, to be 
called eloquent. For, notwithstanding its many 
rhetorical embellishments, we cannot but perceive 
that a great part of the epistle is very serious and 
lively; and most proper to give Donatus a noble 
idea of Christianity. In those passages where he 
is very earnest, he neglects all turns of wit, and 
fails into a sublime and vehement strain. 

B. But what do you think of St. Austin ? is he 
not the most jingling *quibbler that ever wrote? 
w ill you defend him ? 

* Misi nuncios meos oranes et sensus interiores, ut quaa- 
rerem te, et non inveni, quia male quaerebam. Video enim, 
lux mea, Deus qui illuminasti me, quia male te per illos quae- 
rebam quia tu es intus, et tamen ipsi, ubi intraveris, nescive- 

runt Et tamen cum Deum meum quiero, quaero nihilomi- 

nus quandam lucem, quam non capit oculus; quandam vocem 



184 DIALOGUES 

A. No: I cannot vindicate him in that. It 
was the reigning fault of his time ; to which his 
quick lively fancy naturally inclined him. This 
shews that he was not a perfect orator. But, not- 
withstanding this defect, he had a great talent for 
persuasion. He reasoned generally with great 
force ; and he is full of noble notions. He knew 
the heart of man entirely well ; and was so polite, 
that he carefully observed the strictest decency in 
all his discourses. In short, he expressed him- 
self almost always in a pathetic, gentle, insinuat- 
ing manner. Now, ought not the fault we observe 
in so great a man to be forgiven ? 

C. I must own there is one thing in him which 

i'ttper omnem vocem, quam non capit auris; quendam odorem 
super omnem odorem, quern non capit naris ; quendam dulco- 
rcm super omnem dulcorem, quern non capit gustus ; quendam 
amplexum super omnem amplexum, quern non capit tactus. 
Ista lux quid em fidget ubi locus non capit : ista vox sonat, ubi 
spiritus non rapit: odor iste redol % ubi flatus non s'pargit: 
sapor iste sapit, ubi non est edacitas; amplexus iste tangitur, 

ubi non divellitur.- Aug. Solil. sect. 31. 

O dies praclara et pulchra, nesciens vesperum, non habens 
occasum — Ubi non erit hpstis impugnans, neque ulla illecebra, 
sed summa et certa securitas, secura tranquillitas, et tranquilla 
jocunditasjocundafbelicitas, faplix aternitas, sterna beatitudo, 
et beata Trinitas, et Trinitatis unitas, et unitatis Deitas, et 
Deitatifi beata visio, qua: est gaudium Domini Dei tui. 

Sect. 35. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 185 

I never observed in any other writer : I mean, 
that he has a moving way even when he quibbles. 
None of his works are more full of jingling turns, 
than his Confessions and Soliloquies ; and yet we 
must own they are tender,* and apt to affect the 
reader. 

A. It is because he checks the turns of his 
fancy as much as he can, by the ingenious sim- 
plicity of his pious, affecting sentiments. All his 
works plainly shew his love of God. He was not 
only conscious of it, but knew well how to ex- 
press to others the strong sense which he had of 
it. Now, this tender, affecting way, is a part of 
eloquence. But we see, besides, that St. Austin 
knew exactly all the essential rules of it. He 
tells us,t that a persuasive discourse must be 
simple and natural ; that art must not appear in 
it ; and that if it be too fine and elaborate, it puts 

* Quemadmodum desiderat cervus ad fontes aquarum, ita 
desiderat anima mea ad te, Dens. Sitivit anima mea ad te 
Deum, fontem vivum : quando veniam et apparebo ante fa- 
ciem tuam? O ions vitae, vena aquarum viventium ; quando 
veniam ad aquas dulcedinis tuae de terra deserta, invia et in- 
aquosa ; ut videam virtutem tuam, et gloriam tuam, et satiem 
ex aquis misericordiae tuae sitim meam ? Sitio, Domine, fons 
vita? es, satia me. Sitio, Domine, sitio te Deum vivum : O 
quando veniam et apparebo, Domine, ante faciem tuam? — ■■ 

Aug. Solil. cap. xxxv. 
f De Doct. Chr. lib. ii. 



186 DIALOGUES 

the hearers upon their guard.* To this purpose 
he applies these words, which you cannot but re- 
member, Qui sophistice loquitur^ odibilis est. He 
talks likewise very judiciously of the mixing dif- 
ferent kinds of style in a discourse ; of ranging 
the several parts of it in such a manner, as to 
make it increase gradually in strength and evi- 
dence ; of the necessity of being plain and fami- 
liar, even as to the tones of the voice, and our 
action in particular passages ; though every thing 
we say should still have a dignity when we preach 
religion. In fine, he likewise shews the way to 
awaken and move people. These are St. Austin's 
notions of eloquence. But if you would see with 
how much art he actually influenced people's 
minds, and with what address he moved their 
passions, according to the true design of elo- 
quence ; you must read the account which he 
gives of a discourse he made to the people of 
Csesarea, in Mauritania, in order to abolish a bar- 
barous practice. It seems there prevailed among 

* " There is a false eloquence, in being ambitious to say 
" every thing with spirit, and turn all things with delicacy. — 
" If you would attain to true eloquence, you must first lay 
" aside the passion for appearing eloquent. So long as you 
" have vain, ambitious views, you will never preach well, and 
" you will never become truly eloquent." 

QsTjEitvALP ? s Lect. iv. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 187 

them an ancient custom, which they had carried 
to a monstrous pilch of cruelty. His business, 
therefore, was to draw off the people from a spec- 
tacle which extremely delighted them. Judge, 
now, what a difficult enterprise this was. How- 
ever, he tells us, that after he had talked to them 
for some time, they spake aloud, and applauded 
him. But he concluded, that his discourse had 
not persuaded them, seeing they amused them- 
selves in commending him. He thought he had 
done nothing, while he only raised delight and 
admiration in his hearers : nor did he begin to 
hope for any good effect from his discourse, till 
he saw them weep. " In effect," says he, " the 
" people were at length prevailed on to give up 
" this delightful spectacle ; nor has it been re- 
" newed these eight years." Is not St. Austin, 
then, a true orator ? Have we any preachers able 
to talk so powerfully now ? As for St. Jerome, he 
has some faults in his style : but his expressions 
are manly and great. He is not regular ; but he 
is far more eloquent than most of those who value 
themselves upon their oratory. We should judge 
like mere grammarians, if we examined only the 
style and language of the fathers. You know 
there is a great difference between eloquence, 
and what we call elegance or purity of style. — 
St. Ambrose likewise fell into the fashionable de- 



188 DIALOGUES 

fects of his time ; and gives his discourse such 
ornaments as were then in vogue. Perhaps these 
great men, (who had higher views than the com- 
mon rules of rhetoric,) conformed themselves to 
the prevailing taste of the age they lived in, that 
they might the better insinuate the truths of reli- 
gion upon peoplels minds, by engaging them to 
hear the word of God with pleasure. But, not- 
withstanding the puns and quibbles which St. 
Ambrose sometimes uses, we see that he wrote to 
Theodosius with an inimitable force and persua- 
sion. How much tenderness does he express, 
when he speaks of the death of his brother Saty- 
rus ! In the Roman breviary we have a discourse 
of his, concerning John the Baptist's head, which, 
he says, Herod respected and dreaded, even after 
his death. If you observe that discourse, you 
"\vill find the end of it very sublime. St. Leo's 
style is swelling, but truly noble. Pope Gregory 
lived still in a worse age ; and yet he wrote seve- 
ral things with much strength and dignity. We 
ought to distinguish those failings, into which the 
degeneracy of arts and learning led these great 
men, in common with other writers of their seve- 
ral ages; and at the same time observe what their 
genius and sentiments furnished them with, to per- 
suade their hearers. 

C. But do you think, then, that the taste of 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 189 

eloquence was quite lost in those ages which were 
so happy for religion ? 

A. Yes : within a little time after the reign of 
Augustus, eloquence, and the Latin tongue, began 
to decline apace. The fathers did not live till af- 
ter this corruption : so that we must not look on 
them as complete models,* We must even ac- 
knowledge, that most of the sermons which they 
have left us, are composed with less skill and force 
than their other works. When I shewed you from 
the testimony of the fathers, that the scripture is 
eloquent, (which you seemed to believe upon their 
credit,) I knew very well that the oratory of these 
witnesses is much inferior to that of the sacred 
writings themselves. But there are some persons 
of such a depraved taste, that they cannot relish 
the beauties of Isaiah, and yet they will admire 
Chrysologus; in whom, notwithstanding his fine 
name, there is little to be found, besides abundance 
of evangelical piety couched under numberless 
quibbles, and low witticisms. In the East, the just 
way of speaking and writing was better preserved ; 

* Dr. Blair thinks, that " none of the fathers atford any 
u just models of eloquence. Their language, as soon as we 
" descend to the third or fourth century, becomes harsh ; and 
" they are, in general, infected with the taste of that age, a 
" love of swollen and strained thoughts, and of the play of 
" words." Lectures, vol, ii. 



190 DIALOGUES 

and the Greek tongue continued, for some time, 
almost in its ancient purity. St. Chrysostom spake 
it very well. His style, you know, is copious; 
but he did not study false ornaments.* All his 
discourse tends to persuasion : he placed every 
thing with judgment; and was well acquainted 
with the holy scripture, + and the manners of men; 

* " As to the style of sermons, it offends against all rules, 
" if it be not pathetic, nervous, and sublime. The path hath 
" been pointed out by St. Chrysostom. He who was always 
" with God, always fed by the milk of the word, and per- 
" fectly acquainted with the human heart, speaks, thunders, 
" shakes, and leaves to sinners no other answer but cries and 
" remorse." Ganganelli's Letters, vol. hi. 

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t>jp iroMTetav £%e , loi(ra,i(/.£v olvtv tvjv <zylE?u>tr,v, yta.t ev tclvtvi 
poLXKov, '/? ev T©r$ a-rifjiBiOkq, o\]/« vmouvIcc tov dbXyTriv tov Xpla- 
tv — *Eyu 02 , ei jaev tqv hetoTrPioi Ygok^qlths ct7rr,T8v, koli top 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 191 

He entered into their hearts ; and rendered things 
familiarly sensible to them. He had sublime and 
solid notions; and is sometimes very affecting. 
Upon the whole, we must own he is a great ora- 
tor. St. Gregory Nazianzen is more concise,* and 
more poetical; but not quite so persuasive. And 
yet he has several moving passages ; particularly 
in his funeral oration upon his brother St. Basil, 
and in his last discourse at taking leave of Con* 
stantinople. St. Basil is grave^ sententious, and 
rigid, even in his style. He had meditated pro- 
foundly on all the truths of the gospel : he knew ex- 
actly all the disorders and weaknesses of human na- 

A7?w,o<r$sva? oyXbv; you ryv ©tfxyJiJa os^vorrjlcc 9 you to IlAa- 
tuv®* v-^os, ioei (pipeiv el<; yAaoy ravrviv rob' YluvXv ryv pocprv- 
piocv 'AAA £%(ru you rr, Ki^H ir\oo^(iveiv 9 you r\v avv§fj~ 

XY)V TWV 0VQ[A01TU» 0C7TXy)v TWO, eiVCU yoU dtpsXr]* [AOilOV [AT) T>J 

yvcocrei n% you rr\ tmv ooypoiruv dy^Qeitx I^ia/r^ ftfifi /x^' U& 
rrjv olxetav ctgyiocv eirixxhi^/Yi, rov {jLCtxcigiov syeivov dfoupeiaSa 
To psyifov ruv ctyoc&uv, you ro roov lyxupiuv yttyuXouov* 

Chrys. de Sacerdotio, lib. iv. sect. 6. 

Ov [A.Y)V «^ (o 'ETE^ CCV VTToXocQoi T<5 Ivdi^ TUV TTCLVTtiV 

uTQTTuv, you poy^ypuv, ol xglvuw, roc ruv aAAwy rolq olxeiose 

WXViO-w) VKTXpvSw TOV pGlSpH TY,V TOL%lV \lT&VtAa> TYiq (JLei£ov<&'i 

Ovft k>ra<; lyw, 5j rov S«a psy&xq, v> rv)<; uv&pamUviq rctTret- 
nuvtuq kneipt&y u$ py piyat, vofA^etv ttolj-y) yiv^ri (pvcrei you 
Inuaxv TrXrxriu^eiv Qsv, tw [aqvu (pocvoroiroo you ^oc^MPorocru 
km vntPixovri irdamq £A**??, you dvte $vcrey<; xccSctgoryri — • 



192 DIALOGUES 

ture ; and he had a great sagacity in the conduct 
of souls. There is nothing more eloquent than his 
epistle to a virgin who had fallen : in my opinion, 
it is a master-piece. But now, if a preacher 
should not have formed his taste in these matters, 
before he studies the fathers, he will be in danger 
of copying the most inaccurate parts of their 
works; aud may, perhaps, imitate their chief de- 
fects in the sermons he composes. 

C. But how long continued this false elo- 
quence, which succeeded the true kind ? 

A. Till now. 

C, What do you mean ? till now ! 

A. Yes, till now ; for we have not yet cor- 
rected our taste of eloquence so much as we ima- 
gine. You will soon perceive the reason of it. 
The barbarous nations that over-ran the Roman 
empire, did spread ignorance and a bad taste 
every where. Now, we descended from them. 
And though learning began to revive in the fif- 
teenth century, it recovered then but slowly It 
was with great difficulty that we were brought, by 

KaS-^pS^at Set ttgiOTov, etra, xccQxgccf <?*<pi<T<jY}vo<,i noa hrw 
<ro(pio~ca' yiviaSau $>u$ 9 xoa (punicou' \yy\aa\ Ssv, y.ou f^oo 1 - 
ccyuyclv aAAtf?' ccytoco'Syvxi v.ou ocyiocaou* y/eigocfuyyicroik pzTcf 

Greg. Naz. Oral. ApoU 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 193 

degrees, to have any relish of a right manner : 
and even now, how many are there who have no 
notion of it ! However, we ought to shew a due 
respect not only to the fathers, but to other pious 
authors, who wrote during this long interval of ig- 
norance. From them we learn the traditions of 
their time, and several other useful instructions. 
I am quite ashamed of giving my judgment so 
freely on this point : but, gentlemen, ye desired 
me. And I shall be ever ready to own my mis- 
takes, if any one will undeceive me. But it is 
time to put an end to this conversation. 

C. We cannot part with you, till you give us 
your opinion about the manner of choosing a text. 

A. You know very well, that the use of texts 
arose from the ancient custom which preachers 
observed, in not delivering their own reflections to 
the people ; but only explaining the words of the 
sacred text. However, by degrees they came to 
leave off this way of expounding the whole words 
of the gospel appointed for the day; and dis- 
coursed only upon one part of it, which they 
called the text of the sermon. Now, if a preacher 
does not make an exact explication of the whole 
gospel or epistle, he ought at least to choose those 
words which are most important, and best suited 
to the wants and capacities of the people. He 
ought to explain them well : and to give a right 

o 



194 DIALOGUES 

notion of what is meant by a single word, it is 
oftentimes necessary to expound many others in 
the context. But there should be nothing refined 
or far-fetched in such instructions. It must look 
very strange and awkward in a preacher, to set up 
for wit and delicacy of invention, when he ought 
to speak with the utmost seriousness and gravity, 
out of regard to the authority of the Holy Spirit, 
whose words he borrows. 

C. I must confess I always disliked a forced 
text. Have you not observed, that a preacher 
draws from a text whatever sermons he pleases ? 
He insensibly warps and bends his subject to make 
the text fit the sermon which he has occasion to 
preach. This is frequently done in the time of 
Lent. I cannot approve of it. 

B. Before we conclude, I must beg of you to 
satisfy me, respecting one point, which still puzzles 
me ; and after that we will let you go. 

A. Come, then ; let us hear what it is. I have 
a great mind to satisfy you, if I can : for I heartily 
wish you would employ your parts in making plain 
and persuasive sermons. 

B. You would have a preacher explain the 
holy scriptures with connexion, according to tho 
obvious sense of them. 

A. Yes ; that would be an excellent method. 

B. Whence, then, did it proceed, that the fa- 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 195 

thers interpreted the scripture quite otherwise ? 
They usually give a spiritual and allegorical 
meaning to the sacred text. Read St. Austin, St. 
Ambrose, St. Jerome, Origen, and others of the 
fathers : they find mysteries every where, and sel- 
dom regard the letter of scripture. 

A. The Jews who lived in our Saviour's days, 
abounded in these mysterious allegorical interpre- 
tations. It seems that this Therapeutae, who lived 
chiefly at xilexandria, (and whom Philo reckoned 
to be philosophical Jews, though Eusebius sup- 
poses they were primitive Christians^) were ex- 
tremely addicted to these mystical interpretations. 
And, indeed, it was in the city of Alexandria where 
allegories began to appear with credit among 
Christians. Origen was the first of the fathers, 
who forsook the literal sense of scripture. You 
know what disturbance he occasioned in the 
church. Piety itself seemed to recommend these 
allegorical interpretations. And, besides^ there is 
something in them very agreeable, ingenious, and 
edifying. Most of the fathers, to gratify the hu- 
mour of the people, and probably their own too, 
made great use of them* But they kept faithfully 
to the literal and the prophetical sense, (which, in 
its kind, is literal too,) in all points, w here they had 
occasion to shew the foundations of the Christian 
doctrine. When the people were fully instructed 

o 2 



196 DIALOGUES 

in every thing they could learn from the letter of 
scripture, the fathers gave them those mystical in- 
terpretations, to edify and comfort them. These 
explications were exactly adapted to the relish of 
the eastern people, among whom they first arose : 
for they are naturally fond of mysterious and alle- 
gorical language. They were the more delighted 
with this variety of interpretations, because of the 
frequent preaching, and almost constant reading 
of scripture, which was used in the church. But 
among us the people are far less instructed : we 
must do what is most necessary ; and begin with 
the literal sense ; without despising the pious ex- 
plications which the fathers gave. We must take 
care of providing our daily bread, before we seek 
after delicacies. In interpreting scripture, we 
cannot do better than to imitate the solidity of St. 
Chrysostom. Most of our modern preachers do 
not study allegorical meanings, because they have 
sufficiently explained the literal sense : but they 
forsake it, because they do not perceive its gran- 
deur ; and reckon it dry and barren in comparison 
of Iheir way of preaching. But we have all the 
truths and duties of religion in the letter of the 
scripture, delivered not only with authority, and 
a singular beauty, but with an inexhaustible va- 
riety : so that, without having recourse to mystical 
interpretations, a preacher may always have a 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 197 

great number of new and noble things to say. It 
is a deplorable thing to see how much this sacred 
treasure is neglected, even by those who have it 
always in their hands. If the clergy applied 
themselves to the ancient way of making homilies, 
we should then have two different sorts of preach- 
ers. They who have no vivacity, or a poetical 
genius, would explain the scriptures clearly, with- 
out imitating its lively, noble manner ; and if they 
expounded the word of God judiciously, and sup- 
ported their doctrine by an exemplary life, they 
would be very good preachers. They would have 
what St. Ambrose requires, a chaste, simple, clear 
style, full of weight and gravity ; without affecting 
elegance, or despising the smoothness and graces 
of language. The other sort having a poetical 
turn of mind, would explain the scripture in its 
own style and figures ; and by that means become 
accomplished preachers. One sort would instruct 
people with clearness, force, and dignity : and 
the other would add to this powerful instruction, 
the sublimity, the enthusiasm,* and vehemence of 

* Inspiration maybe justly called divine enthusiasm. — ■ 
For inspiration is ureal feeling of the divine presence; and 
enthusiasm a false one. Characteristics, vol. i. p. 53. 

This is what our author advances, when, in behalf of en- 
thusiasm, he quotes its formal enemies, and shews that they 
are as capable of it, as its greatest confessors and martyrs* 



198 DIALOGUES 

scripture : so that it would, if I friay so say, be 
entire, and living in them, as much as it can be in 
men who are not miraculously inspired from 
above. 

B. Oh ! sir, I had almost forgotten an import- 
ant article : have a moment's patience, I beseech 
you : a few words will satisfy me. 

A. What now? have you any body else to 
censure ? 

B. Yes : the panegyrists. Do you think that 

So far is lie from degrading enthusiasm, or disclaiming it in 
himself, that he looks on this passion, simply considered, as 
the most natural ; and its object, the justest in the world. 
Even virtue itself, he takes to be no other than a noble en- 
thusiasm justly directed, and regulated by that high standard . 

which he supposes in the nature of things. Nor is thorough 

honesty, in his hypothesis, any other than this zeal or passion, 
moving strongly upon the species, or view of the decorum, and 
sublime of actions. Others may pursue different forms, and 
fix their eye on different species, as all men do on one or 
other; the real honest man, however plain and simple he ap- 
pears, has that highest species, [the honestum, pulchriwi, 
to jtaXoV, nfiwov,'] honesty itself, in view; and instead of 
outward forms or symmetries, is struck with that of inward 
character, the harmony and numbers of the heart, and beauty 
of the affections, which form the manners and conduct of a 

truly social life. Upon the whole, therefore, according to 

our author, enthusiasm is, in itself, a very natural, honest pas- 
sion, and has properly nothing for its object but whit is good 
and honest. Char. vol. hi. miscel. 2. chap. 1. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 199 

when they praise a saint, they ought so to give his 
character, as to reduce all his actions and all his 
virtues to one point ? 

A. That shews the orator's invention and re- 
fined sense. 

B. I understand you. It seems you do not 
like that method. 

A. I think it wrong in most cases. He must 
put a force upon things, who reduces them all to 
a single point. There are many actions of one's 
life which flow from divers principles, and plainly 
shew that he possessed very different qualities. 
The way of referring all the steps of a man's con- 
duct to one cause, is but a scholastic subtilty, 
which shews that the orator is far from knowing 
human nature. The true way to draw a just cha- 
racter, is to paint the whole man, and to set him 
before the hearer's eyes, speaking and acting. 
In describing the course of his life, the preacher 
should chiefly point out those passages wherein 
either his natural temper, or his piety, best ap- 
peared. But there should always be something 
left to the hearer's own observation. The best way 
of praising holy persons, is to recount their laudable 
actions. This gives a body and force to a panegy- 
rick : this is what instructs people, and makes an 
impression upon their minds. But it frequently 
happens, that they return home without knowing 



200 DIALOGUES 

any thing of a person's life, about whom they have 
heard an hour's discourse : or, at least, they have 
heard many remarks upon a few separate facts, re- 
lated without any connexion. On the contrary, a 
preacher ought to paint a person to the life ; and 
shew what he was in every period, in every con- 
dition, and in the most remarkable junctures of his 
life.* This could not hinder one from forming a 
character of him : nay, it might be better collected 
from his actions and his words, than from general 
thoughts, and imaginary designs. 

B. You would choose, then, to give the history 
of a holy person's life, and not make a panegyrick. 

A. No : you mistake me. I would not make 
a simple narration. I should think it enough to 
give a coherent view of the chief facts, in a con- 
cise, lively, close, pathetic manner. Every thing 
should help to give a just idea of the holy person 
I praised ; and at the same time to give proper in- 
struction to the hearers. To this I would add such 
moral reflections as I should think most suitable. 

* In most modern funeral sermons, and pieces of biogra- 
phy, the partiality of the writer or speaker is too apparent and 
offensive to a truly discerning mind, who hns studied human 
nature. How different from this, is the delineation of cha- 
racters given us in the holy scriptures, where the virtues of 
the greatest men are not exaggerated, nor their faults too 
much palliated ! Editor. 



CONCERNING ELOQUENCE. 201 

Now, do not you think that such a discourse as 
this would have a noble and amiable simplicity ? 
Do not you believe, that the lives of holy people 
would be better understood this way, and an audi- 
ence be more edified, than they generally are ? Do 
you not think, that, according to the rules of elo- 
quence which we laid down, such a, discourse 
would even be more eloquent than those over- 
strained panegyricks that are commonly made ? 

B. I am of opinion, that such sermons as you 
speak of, would be as instructive, as affecting, and 
as agreeable, as any other. I am now satisfied, 
sir ; it is time to release you. I hope the pains 
you have taken with me will not be lost : for I 
have resolved to part Avith all my modern collec- 
tions, and Italian wits; and, in a serious manner, 
to study the whole connexion and principles of re- 
ligion, by tracing them back to their source. 

C. Farewell, sir : the best acknowledgment I 
can make, is to assure you, that 1 will have a great 
regard to what you have said. 

A. Gentlemen, good night. I will leave you 
witli these words of St. Jerome to Nepotian: 
" When you teach in the church, do not endea- 
u vour to draw applause, but rather sighs and 
" groans from the people :* let their tears praise 

* " When yon ohserve a hearer in silence, not uttering a 
11 word, but sorrowful, dejected, thoughtful, and in this con- 



202 DIALOGUES, &t. 

u you. The discourses of a clergyman should be 
u full of the holy scripture. Be not a declaimer, 
u but a true teacher of the mysteries of God." 

" dition returning straight home, and, by his conduct, dis- 
u playing the fruits of preaching ; you ought to make more 
" account of such a one, than of him who crowns the preacher 

41 with praise and applause." Ostervald's Led. vi. 

" That sermon which makes every one go away silent and 
4i grave, and hastening to be alone, to meditate or pray over 
*' the matter of it in secret, has had its true effect.'' 

Burnet. 



END OF THE DIALOGUES. 



A 

LETTER 

FROM 

M. FENELON, 

LATE ARCHBISHOP OF CAJIBRAY, 

TO THE 

Jtencf) acatsemj?, 

CONCERNING 

RHETORIC, POETRY, HISTORY: 

AND A 

COMPARISON 

BETWEEN 

THE ANCIENTS AND MODERNS. 



LETTER 



TO 



M. FONTENELLE, 

SECRETARY TO THE FRENCH ACADEMY, 



SIR, 

1 AM ashamed of having deferred so long to ans- 
wer your letter : but my ill state of health, and a 
continual hurry of affairs, occasioned this delay. 
The choice which the Academy* has made of you 

* " Of late, in many parts of Europe, some gentlemen 
c met together, submitted to common laws, and formed 
i themselves into academies. But it has been, for the most 
1 part, to a different purpose [from the Royal Society's] : and 
c most of them only aimed at the smoothing of their style 
' and the language of their country. Of these, the first arose 
6 in Italy. — But that which excelled all the other, and kept 
' itself longer untainted from the corruptions of speech, was 
' the French Academy at Paris. This was composed of the 
< noblest authors of that nation ; and had, for its founder, 
c the great Cardinal de Richelieu; who, amongst all his cares, 

whereby he established and enlarged that monarchy so 



206 A LETTER TO THE 

for their perpetual secretary, is worthy of such a 
society, and promises great advantage to the com- 
monwealth of learning. I own* sir 5 that I am 
somewhat perplexed with the request you make 
me in the name of a body, to which I am so much 
obliged. But, since they desire it, I will freely 
give them my opinion^ with a great distrust of 



much, did often refresh himself by directing and taking an 
account of their progress. And, indeed, in his own life- 
time, he found so great success of this institution, that he 
saw the French tongue abundantly purified, and beginning 
to take place in the western world, almost as much as the 
Greek did of old, when it was the language of merchants, 
soldiers, courtiers, and travellers. But I shall say no more 
of this Academy, that I may not deprive my reader of the 
delight of perusing their own history, written by M. de Pe- 
lisson ; which is so masculinely, so chastly, and so unaf- 
fectedly done, that I can hardly forbear envying the French 
nation this honour ; that while the English Royal Society 
has so much out-gone their illustrious Academy in the 
greatness of its undertaking, it should he so far short of 
them in the abilities of its historian. I have only this to 
allege in my excuse, that as they undertook the advance- 
ment of the elegance of speech, so it became their history 
to have some resemblance to their enterprise i whereas the 
intention of ours being not the artifice of words, but a bare 
knowledge of things; my fault may be esteemed the less* 
that I have written of philosophers without any ornament 
of eloquence." 

Bishop Si'rat's Hist, of the Royal Society, p. 39, 10. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 207 

myself, and a sincere deference for those who 
vouchsafe to consult me. 

I. The dictionary which the Academy is 
forming, well deserves to be finished. Custom, 
indeed, which often changes living languages, 
may at length alter what this dictionary shall de- 
termine : 

Nedum sermonum stet honos, et gratia vivax. 
Multa renascentur qua? jam cecidere ; cadentque 
Quae nunc sunt in honore vocabula, si volet usus ; 
Quern penes arbitrium est, et jus, et norma loquendi. 

Hor. de Art. Poet. 

However, it will be of several uses. It will b^ 
serviceable to foreigners who are fond of the 
French language, and improve themselves by 
reading the many excellent books of several 
kinds which are published in it. Besides, the 
most polite among the French themselves may 
sometimes have occasion to consult the dictionary, 
about such words as they doubt of. In fine ; when 
our language becomes much altered, the diction-* 
ary will help to explain those books that are 
written in the present age, and which will be ad- 
mired by posterity. Are we not obliged now to 
explain the language of Villehardouin and Join* 



203 A LETTER TO THE 

ville ? We would be extremely glad to have 
Greek and Latin dictionaries made by the an- 
cients themselves. It must indeed be owned, that 
the perfecting of dictionaries is a point in which 
the moderns have out-done the ancients. In time, 
posterity will find the benefit of having a diction- 
ary, which will serve as a key to so many fine 
books. The value of such a work must increase 
in proportion to its age. 

II. It were to be wished, .methinks, that the 
Academy would add a grammar to their diction- 
ary. It would be a great help to foreigners, who 
are often perplexed with our irregular phrases. 
The habitual easiness of speaking our own lan- 
guage, hinders us from perceiving what it is that 
puzzles them. Besides, most of the French them- 
selves would sometimes have occasion to consult 
such an established rule. They learned their 
mother-tongue only by custom : and custom has 
its defects everywhere : each province has its own : 
Paris is not faultless. Even the court itself lias a 
tang of the language of Paris ; where the children 
of the highest quality are usually educated. The 
most polite people can scarce g^t rid of the tone 
and peculiar expressions, which they learned in 
their childhood, by conversing with their a(- 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 209 

tendants, in Gascony, Normandy, or in Paris 
itself.* 

The Greeks and Romans did not think it 
enough that they learned their native tongue by 
mere practice. When they grew up, they stu- 
died it in the works of grammarians, to observe 
the rules, the exceptions, the etymologies, the fi- 
gurative senses, the structure of the whole lan- 
guage, and its variations. t 

A learned grammarian would be in danger of 
making a grammar too elaborate, and too full of 
precepts* I think it would be best to keep to a 
short and easy method. At first, give only the most 
common rules : the exceptions will be learned by 
degrees. The chief point is to set a learner, as 
soon as possible, to apply the general rules by 
frequent practice : and afterward he will take a 
pleasure in observing the particular rules which 
he followed at first, without heeding them. 

* Ante omnia, ne sit vitiosus sermo nutricibus : quas, si 
fieri posset, sapientes Chrysippus optavit ; certe, quantum res 
pateretur, optimas eligi voluit. Has primum audiet puer, 
harum verba effingere imitando conabitur. Non adsuescat 
ergo, ne dum infans quidem est, sermoni, qui dediscendus sit. 
Quint. Inst. Orat. lib. i. sect. 1. 

f The reader may be much edified by studying Dr. Croin- 

bie's Etymology and English Syntax, Editor. 

P 



210 A LETTER TO THE 

This grammar could not fix a living language : 
but it would probably lessen the capricious changes, 
by which the mode governs our words as well as 
our clothes. These fanciful alterations may, at 
■length, perplex and spoil a language, instead of 
improving it* 

III. May I not presume here, from an excess 
of zeal, to offer a proposal, which I readily submit 
to such a judicious society ? Our language wants a 
great many words and phrases. Nay, I cannot 
but think, that within these hundred years it has 
been cramped and impoverished by refining it. 
It was then somewhat unpolished, indeed, and too 
verbose : but we regret the loss of the old lan- 
guage, when we find it in the works of Marot, 
Amiot, the cardinal d'Ossat ; in the most humor- 
ous writings, as well as in the most serious. It 
had something in it very short, simple, bold, 
lively, and affecting. If I mistake not, we have 
thrown out more words than we have taken in. 
Now, I would have none lost, but new ones intro- 
duced. I would have every word authorized 
which we want, if it sound sweetly, and be not 
ambiguous. 

When we carefully .examine the signification 
of words, we perceive there are scarce any two 



FRENCH ACADEMY. gll 

that have exactly the same meaning. We find 
very many which do not point out an object dis- 
tinctly enough 5 unless we add a second word. 
Hence comes the frequent use of circumlocutions, 
which oblige us to use several words to express 
one idea. It would be proper to abridge our 
language, by fixing one plain, proper word to ex- 
press every object, every sentiment, and every 
action. I would even have several synonymous 
terms for one thing. This is the way to avoid 
all ambiguity*, to vary our expressions, and to 
make them all harmonious; seeing we might 
easily choose out of several synonymous words, 
that which runs smoothest with the rest of the 
period. 

The Greeks had a great number of these com- 
pounded words ; such as Pantocrator, Glaucopis, 
Eucnemides, &c. And though the Latins were 
more reserved in this point, they imitated the 
Greeks a little ; as in Lanifica^ Malesuada, Po- 
mifer, &c. This way of compounding words 
made their language concise, and their verses 
more magnificent. Besides^ the Greeks freely 
used several dialects in the same poem, to make 
their versification more various and easy. The 
Latins enriched their tongue with such foreign 
"ttords as they needed. For instance, they want- 
ed some terms which were proper for philosophy* 

p2 



212 A LETTER TO THE 

which began at Rome very late. So, when they 
learned Greek, they borrowed its terms to argue 
upon the sciences. Tully, who was nicely scru- 
pulous about the purity of his language, very 
freely used such Greek terms as he needed. A 
Greek word, when first used, was reckoned un- 
couth : however, some begged leave to use it ; 
and then the permission they obtained soon turn- 
ed into custom, and made it current Latin. 

I am informed that the English* refuse no 
words that fit their purpose, but borrow freely 

* " I hope it will not be thought a vain digression, if I 

u step a little aside to recommend to the gentlemen of our 

" nation the forming of such an assembly as the French Aca- 

" demy. I know, indeed, that the English genius is not so 

" airy and discoursive as that of some of our neighbours; but 

" that we generally love to have reason set out in plain 

" undeceiving expressions, as much as they to have it de- 

" livered with colour and beauty. And, besides this, T un- 

" derstand well enough, that they have one great assistance 

u to the growth of oratory, which to us is wanting; that is, 

" that their nobility live commonly close together in their 

u cities; and ours, for the most part, scattered in their 

" country-houses — whereas, it is from the frequent conversa- 

" tions in cities, that the humour, and wit, and variety, and 

" elegante of language, are chiefly to be fetched. But yet, 

u notwithstanding these discouragements, I shall not stick to 

u say, that such a project is now seasonable to be set on foot, 

u and may make a great reformation in the manner of our 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 213 

from any of (heir neighbours. Such a practice is 
very allowable. In this case, mere use makes a 
language common to all men. Words are but 

" speaking and writing. First, the thing itself is no way con- 
" temptible: for, the purity of speech, and greatness of em- 
u pire, have, in all countries, still met together. The Greeks 
" spoke best when they were in their glory of conquest. The 
" Romans made those times the standard of their wit, when 
" they subdued, and gave laws to the world : and, from 
" thence, by degrees, they declined to corruption; as their 
" valour, their prudence, and the honour of their arjns, did 
" decay ; and, at last, did even meet the northern nations 
" half-way in barbarism, a little before they were over-run by 
" their armies. 

" But, besides, if we observe well the English language, 
" we shall find, that it seems, at this time, more than others, 
" to require some such aid to bring it to its last perfection. 
" The truth is, it has been hitherto a little too carelessly 
" handled ; and, I think, has had less labour spent about its 
" polishing than it deserves. Till the time of king Henry the . 
" Eighth, there was scarce any man regarded it but Chaucer; 
u and nothing was written in it which one would be willing to 
" read twice, but some of his poetry. But then it began to 
" raise itself a little, and to sound tolerably well. From that 
" age down to the beginning of our late civil wars, it was still 
u fashioning and beautifying itself. In the wars themselves — 
" it received many fantastical terms, which were introduced 
" by our religious sects ; and many out-landish phrases, which 
" several writers and translators, in that great hurry, brought 
" in and made free as they pleased; and, withal, it was en- 



214 A LETTER TO THE 

sounds which we arbitrarily use to express our 
thoughts : and these sounds are in themselves of 
no value. All people have the same right to use 
them. What matter is it, then, whether a word 
belongs originally to our language, or comes from 
a foreign country ? It would be very childish to 
take any exception at such a trifle as the manner 
of moving our lips and shaking the air. 

Besides, we have no pretence for insisting 
upon this false point of honour. Our language is 
only a mixture of Greek, Latin, and Teutonic, 
with some confused remains of the Gaulish. 
Now, seeing the main stock of it is borrowed from 
other tongues ; why should we, through a ground- 
less shame, deny ourselves the liberty of borrow- 

" larged by many sound and necessary forms, and idioms 
" which it before wanted. And now, when men's minds are 
' " somewhat settled, their passions allayed, and the peace of 
" our country gives us the opportunity of such diversions; if 
" some sober and judicious men would take the whole mass 
'" of our language into their hands, as they find it, and would 
u set a mark on the ill words ; correct those which are to be 
" retained ; admit and establish the good ; and make some 
u emendations in the accent and grammar: I dare pro- 
" nounce that our speech would quickly arrive at as much 
" plenty, as it is capable to receive ; and at the greatest 
u smoothness, which its derivation from the rough German 
" will allow it." History of the Royal Society, p. 41, 42. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 215 

ing what words we still want to enrich our lan- 
guage ? We ought to take from all quarters, 
whatever we need to render it more clear, more 
exact, more harmonious, and more concise : for 
all circumlocution weakens a discourse. 

It is true, the choice of such words as ought 
to be authorized, should be left to persons of a 
just taste and approved discernment, Latin words 
seem to be fittest for this purpose : for they sound 
agreeably, and depend on other words which are 
already French. People's ears are accustomed 
to them : there is but one step wanting to make 
them current ; and that is, their having an agree- 
able termination given them. When the intro- 
ducing of new words is left to chance, or to igno- 
rant people, or the fancies of women ; they admit 
several terms which are neither so clear, nor so 
smooth, as were to be wished. I own, that if, 
without a prudent, deliberate choice, we should 
hastily adopt a great number of foreign words, we 
should make our language a confused, unpolished 
medley of other tongues of a quite different kind : 
as ill-digested food adds to the mass of blood an 
unsuitable mixture of parts, which rather corrupt 
than recruit it. But we must remember, that we 
have but just thrown off that uncivilized manner 
which was as ancient as our nation. 



216 A LETTER TO THE 



-Sed in Ionium tamen cevum 



Manserunt, hodieque manent vestigia ruris. 
Serus enim Graecis admovit acumina chartis. 

Hon. Epist. lib. ii. 

Some will perhaps object, that the Academy 
has not power to make a new term current, and 
that the public may oppose it. I remember 
the instance of Tiberius, that formidable master of 
the Romans' lives, who made himself ridiculous 
by affecting to introduce the word monopolium. 
However, I believe that the public would readily 
shew a deference to such a discreet authority as 
the Academy would use. Why might not we 
effect what the English do every day ? When ye 
find the want of a word, choose one that sounds 
sweetly, and is not in the least ambiguous ; one 
that is agreeable to our language, and will help 
to abridge discourse : every one will perceive the 
convenience of such a word. Let four or five 
persons use it modestly in familiar conversation ; 
others will repeat it through a love of novelty, 
and then it becomes fashionable. Thus a path 
which one opens in a field, soon becomes a beaten 
way, when the old path is rugged and farthest 
about. 

Besides new and simple words, wc want some 
compounded ones, and phrases j in which the art 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 217 

of joining words together, which were always 
used apart, might produce a graceful novelty. 

Dixeris egregie, notum si callida verbum 
Reddiderit junctura novum. 

Hor. de Art. Poet. 

Thus the Latins said velholum in one word, com- 
posed of two : and of two distinct words they made 
phrases ; such as remigium alarum, lubricus as* 
pick But in this point we must be sparing and 
cautious : 

tenuis cautusque serendis. Ibid. 



The nations that live in a mild climate, relish 
strong and bold metaphors less than the people of 
hot countries do. Our language would soon 
become copious, if those who are in greatest 
repute for politeness would endeavour to intro- 
duce such expressions, either simple or figurative, 
as we have hitherto wanted. 

IV. An excellent rhetoric* would be far more 
valuable than a grammar, or any other project 

* u Nor would I have this new English Academy con- 
" fined only to the weighing words and letters ; there may 
" be also greater works found out for it. By many signs we 
" may guess that the wits of our nation are not inferior to 
u any other; and that they have an excellent mixture of the 



218 A LETTER TO THE 

which tends only to bring a language to greater 
perfection. He who would undertake this work, 
should collect into it all the finest precepts of 
Aristotle, Cicero, Quintilian, Lucian, Longinus, 
and other famous authors. The passages he 
might quote from them would be the ornaments 
of his work. By taking only the choicest parts of 
the purest antiquity, he would make a short, cu- 
rious, delicate treatise. 

I am very far from preferring the genius of the 
ancient orators to that of the moderns, in all re- 
spects. I think the comparison which has been 
lately made on this subject is very just : for, as 
trees have now the same form, and bear the same 
kind of fruit, which they had a thousand years 
ago; so men continue to produce the same 
thoughts. But there are two things which I 
must here take the freedom to surest. The 

" spirit of the French and the Spaniard : and I am confident 

u that we only want a few more standing examples, and a little 

" more familiarity with the ancients, to excel all the moderns. 

" Now, the best means which can be devised to bring that 

" about, is to settle a fixed and impartial court of eloquence ; 

u according to whose censure, all books, or authors, should 

" either stand or fill. — The Royal Society is so far from being 

" like to put a stop to such a business, that I know many of its 

" members who are as able as any others to assist in bringing it 

11 into practice." History of' the Rot/ a I Society, p. 42, 43, 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 219 

first is, that some climates are more happy than 
others, for some particular talents, as well as for 
certain kinds of fruit. For instance, Languecloc 
and Provence produce raisins and figs of a better 
taste than Normandy, or the Netherlands. So 
the Arcadians had a genius fitter for polite arts 
than the Scythians. The Sicilians have a better 
taste of music than the Laplanders. We find, 
likewise, that the Athenians* had a more quick 
and sprightly wit than the Boeotians. The second 
thing I observe, is, that the Greeks had a kind of 
long tradition, which we want. Eloquence was 
more cultivated among them, than it can be in 
our nation. Among the Greeks all things de- 
pended on the people : and the people were in- 
fluenced by haranguing. In their form of govern- 
ment, fortune, reputation, and authority, were 
obtained by persuading the people. Artful, ve- 
hement declaimers swayed them as tiiey pleased ; 
and oratory was the great spring of affairs, both 
in peace and war. Hence came those numerous 
harangues mentioned in history, which we reckon 
incredible ; because they are so entirely different 
from our manners. Diodorus, the Sicilian, tells 

* Athenis teuue caelum, ex quo acutiores etiam putantur 
Attici; crassum Thebis Cic. de Fata. sect. 4. 

Bceotum in crasso jurarcs aere natuin. Hon. 



220 A LETTER TO THE 

us, that Nicolaus and Gysippus, by turns, influ- 
enced the Syracusians. The one prevailed with 
them, at first, to pardon some Athenian prisoners ; 
and the next moment, the other persuaded them 
to put those very prisoners to death. 

Rhetoric has no such influence now among us. 
Public assemblies meet only for shows and cere- 
monies. We have scarce any remains of a pow- 
erful eloquence, either of our old parliaments, or 
our general states, or our assemblies of chief per- 
sons.* Every tiling is determined secretly in 
cabinet-councils, or in some particular negotia- 
tion : so that our people have no encouragement 
to use such application as the Greeks did, to raise 
themselves by the art of persuasion. The public 
use of eloquence is now almost confined to the 
pulpit and the bar. 

The warmth of our lawyers to gain a cause re- 
lating to the estate of a private person, cannot equal 
the ambition which the Greek orators had to pos- 
sess themselves of the supreme authority in a com- 
monwealth. A lawyer loses nothing; nay, he 
gets his fee, though he lose the cause he under- 
took. Is he young ? he applies himself to plead 
elegantly, that lie may acquire some reputation, 
without having ever studied either the grounds of 

* De Notables. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 221 

the law, or the great models of antiquity. Has 
he established his character? he leaves off plead- 
ing, and enriches himself by chamber-practice. 
The most valuable lawyers are those who set facts 
in a clear light ; who recur to some fixed principle 
of law ; and answer all objections according to it. 
But where are those who have the art of forcing 
the assent, and moving the hearts of a whole 
people ? 

Shall J presume to speak with the same free- 
dom concerning preachers ? God knows how much 
I reverence the ministers of his word. But I can- 
not offend any particular person among them, by 
observing in general, that they are not all equally 
humble and d sinterested. Young men, who have 
little reputation, are too forward in preaching. 
People fancy they see that those seek their own 
glory more than God's ; and that they are more 
earnest about making their fortune, than for the 
salvation of souls. They talk like sparkling ora- 
tors, rather than like ministers of Christ, and 
stewards of his mysteries. It was not with this 
vain pomp of words that St. Peter preached the 
crucified Jesus, in those sermons which converted 
so many thousand people. 

Would we learn the rales of a serious effectual 
eloquence from St. Austin ? He follows Cicero in 
distinguishing three different kinds of speaking. 



222 A LETTER TO THE 

He says we must speak submissively,* in a hum- 
ble^ familiar way ; mildly, t in an engaging, soft, 
insinuating manner, to make people love the 
truth ; and nobly, J that is, in a lofty $ vehement 
strain, when we would captivate men, and rescue 
them from the dominion of their passions. He 
adds, that the only reason for using stich expres- 
sions as may please people, is, because there are 
few men reasonable enough to relish such truths 
in a discourse as are quite dry and naked. As for 
the sublime and vehement kind, he would not 
have it florid; " nor embellished]) with the orna- 
u ments of speech ; but rather full of the most 

" pathetic emotions. For the speaker, follow- 

li ing the impulse of his thoughts, does not indus- 
" triously study the beauties of elocution ; but 
Ci naturally uses such as rise from the subject 
u itself.' 5 The same father observes, that a man 
who fights resolutely with a sword, enriched with 
gold and jewels, uses these arms, (without regard- 
ing the value of them,) because they are fit for 
fighting. He adds, that God had permitted 

* Submisse. f Temperate. J Granditer. 

|| — Xon tarn verhorum ornatibus comtum est, qunm vio 
lentuni animi affectibuS Fertur quippe impetu suo, et ele- 
cta ionis pulchritudinc ra, si occurrerit, vi rerum ropir, non cum 
decorifi a^sumit. — -Ave. de Doct. Chr. lib. i\\ 



TRENCH ACADEMY. 223 

St. Cyprian to use some affected ornaments in his 
letter to Donatus, that posterity might see how 
much the purity of the Christian doctrine had cor- 
rected this superfluous vanity , and brought him to 
a more grave and modest eloquence. 

But nothing can be more affecting than the 
two stories which St. Austin relates, to shew us 
the true way of preaching with success. In the 
first instance, he was as yet but a priest. The 
holy bishop Valerius appointed him to preach to 
the people of Hippo, in order to reclaim them 
from riotous feasting on solemn days.* He opened 
the scriptures^ and read to them the most vehe- 
ment and threatening reproaches. He earnestly 
besought his hearers, - by the ignominies and 
" the sorrows, by the cross, by the blood of Christ, 
" not to destroy themselves ; to pity him who 
u spake to them with so much affection; and to 
" shew some regard to their venerable old bishop, 
u who, out of tenderness to them^ had commanded 
u him to instruct them in the truth. I did not 
" make them weep," says he, " by first weeping 
" over them; but while I preached, their tears 
" prevented mine. I own, that then I could not 
" restrain myself. After we had wept together, 
u I began to entertain great hope of their amend- 

* Epist. xxix, ad Alvp. 



224 A LETTEfe TO THE 

" ment." On this occasion, he quite varied from 
the discourse which he had prepared ; because he 
did not now think it suitable to their penitent dis* 
position. In fine, he had the satisfaction of seeing 
this people tractable, and reformed from that very 
day. 

The other occasion wherein he powerfully 
swayed the minds of his audience^ is thus related 
by himself: " We must not imagine that a man 
" has spoken in a lofty sublime manner, when lid 
ic receives many acclamations and great applause. 
" These are sometimes given to the lowest turns of 
" wit, ahd the ornaments of the moderate sort of 
" eloquence. But the sublime strain oftentimes 
" overwhelms people's minds with its vehemence : 
" it renders them speechless t it melts them into 
" tears* When I endeavoured to persuade the 
" people of Caesarea, in Mauritania, to abolish a 
" combat among the citizens, in which, relations, 
" brothers, fathers, and sons, being divided into 
" two parties, fought publicly for several days, 
" at a certain time of the year; and every man 
u endeavoured to kill the person whom he at- 
" tacked : according to the utmost of my ability, 
" I used the most pathetic expressions to extir* 
" pate such a cruel inveterate custom from the 
u minds and manners of this people. However, 
" I thought I had done nothing, while I only 






FRENCH ACADEMY. 225 

" heard their acclamations. But their tears gave 
a me some hope : their applauses shewed that I 
cc had instructed them, and that they were pleased 
a with my discourse; but their tears declared 
" that their minds were changed. When I saw 
ci them weep, 1 believed that this horrible custom, 
u which they had received from their ancestors, 
" and been so long enslavedto, would be abolished. 
66 -—It is now eight years ago, and upwards, and 
" by the grace of God they have been restrained 
u from attempting any such practice." If St. 
Austin had weakened his discourse by the affected 
ornaments of the florid kind of rhetoric, he 
would never have been able to reform the 
people of Hippo and Cassarea. 

Demosthenes likewise followed this rule of true 
eloquence. " O Athenians !*" said he, " do not 

My ya^ w$ &so> vo^I^st ixeivcj roc irayovlcx, TrsftYiyevoci 
ttgccypccla, uSavalct, uTO\u y.vj&i riq lx.eiv.ov, y.cti Sshsv, u ocv 
cgsq A<?rjva,7oi, xai $§Qvei, y.oa raJv ituvv vvv $ox.kv\uv liKei&x; 

iX Biv GLVTU XOCTSTrlr,^ (AZV TOl TCCVTa ttCcflCC VVV Hit B^OvlcC 

uTrorgooprjv hoe, r\v vperegxv @%ochSlr,rcc tlou ^ccSvp'iocv ogare 

yctg, u ccvopq y A§r,vcc7(H, to ^ay^a ot tt^osXrjXvSsv uazhye\ot,q 
«i/^o<n7^, o$ &y cucso-iv vunv oNiW* rov TT^ocrletv v) uyeiv ri<TV~ 
yjav, aAA u7re-i\<H xa* "Koyaq VTngvifcLtsq, ciq faj-t, Xiyei, kolI 
an qios ti iru iX uv « xarsV^Trrai, pim* £7Ti riruv, aA*' 

Q 



226 A LETTER TO THE 

" fancy that Philip is like a deity, assured of suc- 
" cess in all his attempts. Among those who 
" seem devoted to his interest, there are some 
" that hate, and dread, and envy him. — But your 
" negligence and sloth put all things to a stand. — 
66 Consider, O Athenians ! to what condition ye 
€i are reduced. This wicked man is gone so far 
cc as to leave you no choice betwixt vigilance and 
" inactivity. They say he threatens you, and 
cc talks arrogantly. He is not content now with 
iC what he has already conquered ; he forms new 
u projects every day ; and lays snares for you on 
6i all sides, while ye continue still backward and 
" slothful. When then, O Athenians! when is 
" it that ye will do what ye ought to do? when 

aUi ri GrpocrvrB^PaXKtrcti, v.ca avitKa 'rrccvlocy/i peXKovion £//£; 
xa) xa$'/?jtAEytf? ire^roi%i£e7a,i. Hot kv u uvfyeq 'a6svu?oi 9 

s * ~ ^ / \ ft > v 

avctyKV} tk vj ; vvv as Tt p^ roc yiyvopsvcx, ^yna^jon, zyw yot% 

X * ■ • 'ft / v\~ / 

ii[Aca rat; eAev-je^ois {jiey^YjV ccvayy.r,v Tr,v wnrzg tojv GrgxyfActrui, 
alcvvvnv eivcti' fc /38^e2"Sh, eiiii pot, Treguovreq avTuv Trvvvu- 
M0$a» %out&\ TYjV uyoguv, Xiyerou ti xcuvov ', yivo^ro yct^ a* 
T» xouvqtipov y) Maxt^wv uvyi^ ' ASrivaiaq y.&TUTrohefjLVv, xcu rcc 
TUV IL^xivuv oioixuv ; TfeSvjjxs <J>tA»7r7r@^ ; y /xa At aAA aj$s- 
iei t» & 9 vu!i¥ JW$;p« ', v.aX yccg uv «t(^ ta irct^-i), rot^eajt; 
LfA.eit; fc'rfpov Qn'hwirQv trowe-tri Demosthenes in Phil. i. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 227 

u will ye attempt something ? when will necessity 
" determine you to act? what must we think of 
u what is now a doing ? In my opinion, no ne- 
" cessity can be more urgent upon a free people 
u than what arises from the shame of their past ill 
" conduct. Will ye still wander about in public 
66 places, enquiring after news ? What stranger 
" news can there be, than that a man of Macedon 
u subdues the Athenians, and governs all Greece ? 
" Is Philip dead ? says one : no, says another, he 
H is only sick. What avails it, which he is; for 
u if he were dead, ye would soon raise up another 
" Philip." Here good sense speaks without any 
other ornament than its native force. The orator 
makes the truth plain to all the people ; he 
awakens them ; he spurs them on to action ; he 
shews them their impending ruin Every thing 
is spoken for the common good ; not a word to 
shew his own wit : there is no glittering thought : 
ail tends to instruct and move the people. 

Indeed the Romans began very late to follow 
the example of the Greeks, in improving polite 
learning*. 



■*&• 



Graiis ingenium, Graiis dedit ore rotundo 
Musa loqui, praeter laudem nullius avaris. 
Romani pueri longis rationibus assem 

Discunt in partes centum deducere 

Hqr. de Art. Poet. 
Q 2 



g28 A LETTER TO THE 

The Romans were employed about their laws 
and rights ; about war, and husbandry, and com- 
merce : which gave Virgil occasion to say, 

Excudent alii spirantia mollius sera; 

Credo equidem ; vivos ducent de marmore rultus. 

Orabunt causas melius : ■ 

Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento: 

Ilae tibi erunt artes : Mn. lib. vi. ver. 848. 

Sallust finely describes the manners of ancient 
Rome ; even while he owns that she neglected li- 
terature. " The most prudent," says he,* " were 
iC always the busiest. No one exercised his wit 
" more than his body. The worthiest persons 
" chose rather to act wisely than to declaim ; and 
u to have their brave deeds applauded by others, 
iC rather than to busy themselves in recording 
u their neighbour's good actions." 

We must acknowledge, however, according to 
Livy's testimony, that a strong and popular elo- 
quence was well cultivated at Rome in the days of 
ManHus. This man, who had saved the capitol 
from the Gauls, tried to stir up the people to scdi- 

* Prudentitsimus quisque negotiosus maxume erat. Tn- 
ium nemo sine corpore exercebat-. Optimus quisque fa- 
, quam dicere; sua ab aliis benefacta laudafi, quain ipse 
ilebac. Sallust. Bel. Calil. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 229 

lion. " How long," said lie,* " will ye be ignorant 
" of*your strength ; which nature discovers to the 
" very beasts? Count at least how many ye are — 
" I should think ye would fight more resolutely 
" for liberty, than those men for dominion — How 
" long will ye look upon me ? Ye may all of you 
" depend on me to the utmost," &c. This power- 
ful orator persuaded all the people to pardon him, 
stretching out his hands towards the capitol, which 
he had formerly saved. Nor could his death be 
obtained of the multitude, till he was carried into 
a sacred wood ; whence he could no longer shew 
them the capitol. " The Tribunes found," says 
Livy,+ " that seeing the people's minds were so 
" strongly prepossessed with the merit of Man- 
u lius, it would be impossible to persuade them he 
u was really guilty, unless they could carry them 
ic oat of the sight of the capitol, which reminded 

* Quousque tandem ignorabitis vires vestras, quas natura 
ne belluas quidem ignorare voluit? Numerate saltern quot ipsi 
skis — Tamen acrius crederem, vos pro liber tate quam iiios pro 

dominations certaturos Quousque me circumspectabilis ? 

Ego quidem nulli vestrum deero — Tit. Liv. lib. vi. cap. 18. 

f Apparuit Tribunis, nisi oculos quoque hominum liberas- 
seut a tanti memoria d.coris numquam fore in pra^occupatis 

beneficio aniinis, vero crimini locum — Ibi crimen valuit 

Tit. Liv. lib. vi. cap. 20., 



230 A LETTER TO THE 



" them of his glorious service — Then his crime 
<c appeared." 

Every one knows what troubles eloquence oc- 
casioned among the Greeks. At Rome, Cataline's 
oratory brought the republic to the brink of ruin. 
But that eloquence tended only to persuade 
people, and to move their passions. Wit was never 
employed in it. A florid declaimer could have 
had no influence in public affairs. 

Nothing can be more artless than Brutus when 
he writes* to Cicero with such an air of superio- 

* Particulam litterarum tuarum, quas misisti Octavio, legi 
At dolore, quantum animo maximum capere possum, ea- 
dem ilia pars epistolae scripts ad Octavium de nobis, affecit. 
Sic enim ilii gratias agis de republica : tarn suppliciter ac de- 
misse (quid scribam ? pudet conditionis, ac fortunae ; sed tamen 
scribendum est) commendas nostram salutem illi, (quae morte 
qua non pemiciosior) ut prorsus pras te feras, non sublatam 
dominationem, sed dominum commutatum esse. Verba tua 
recognosce, et aude negare, servientis adversus regem istas 
esse praeces. Unum ais esse, quod ab eo postuletur, et expec- 
tetur; ut eos cives, de quibus viri boni populusque Romanus 
bene existimet, salvos velit. Quid si nolit? non erimus? at- 
qui non esse, quam esse per ilium, praestat. Ego, medius fidtiie, 
non existimo tarn omnes deos aversos esse a salute populi Iio- 
mani, ut Octavius orandus sit pro salute cujusquam civis, non 
dicam pro liberatoribus orbis terrarum — Hoc tu, Cicero, posse 
faterif Octavium, et illi amicus es? aut, si me carum habcs, 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 231 

rity, as to reprove and silence him. " You beg 
" our life and safety of Octavius," says he; "what 
" death could be so bad ? By this request ye shew 
" that tyranny is not destroyed ; and that we have 
u only changed our tyrant. Consider your own 
" words; and deny, if ye can, that such a peti- 
" tion is fit to be offered to none but a king ; and 
" from a slave too. Ye say, that ye ask and ex- 
" pect only one favour of him; that he would 
" save the lives of those citizens who are esteemed 
" by persons of worth, and by all the Roman 
" people. What, then, unless he shall graciously 
" please, we must not live J But it is better to die 
iC than to owe our lives to him. No: I cannot 
" think the gods are such declared enemies to the 
" safety of Rome, as to be willing that the life of 
" any citizen should be begged of Octavius; and 

vis Romas videri ; cum, ut tibi esse possem, commendandus 
puero illi fuerim ? Cui quid agis gratias, si, ut nos salvos esse 
velit, et patiatur, rogandum putas? an hoe pro beneficio est 
habendum, quod se, quam Antonium, esse maluerit, a quo ista 
petenda essent? — Ista vero imbecillitas et desperado, cujus 
culpa non magis in te residet, quam in omnibus aliis, Caesarem 
in cupiditatem regni impulit ? et Antonio — Quod si Romanos 
nos esse meminissemus, non audacius dominari cuperent post- 
remi homines, quam id nos prohiberemus. — Tu quidem con- 
sulates, et tantorum scelerum vindex, (quibus oppressis, verior, 
ne in breve tempus dihita sit abs te pemicies) qui potes intueri, 
qua? geeseris Apud Cicer. lib. epist. ad Brut, epist. xvi. 



232 A LETTER TO THE 

far less the lives of (hose who are the deliverers 
of the universe. O Cicero ! can you confess 
that he has such power ! and still be one of his 
friends ? Or if you love me, can you desire to 
see me at Rome, when I cannot come thither 
without obtaining that boy's permission ? For 
what do you thank him, if you think that our 
life must still be begged of him as a favour ? 
Must we reckon it a happiness that he chooses 
to have such favours asked rather of him, than 
of Anthony ?— This weakness and despair, which 
others are guilty of as well as you, first embold- 
ened Caesar to make himself king. — Bat if we 
remembered that we are Romans, the ambition 
of these base men to usurp the government, 
would not have been greater than our courage 
in defending it. I am afraid that you, who 
have been consul, and avenged the public of 
so many crimes, have thereby only delayed our 
ruin for a short while. How can you behold what 
you have done ?" — How weak, indecent, and 
mean, must this discourse have appeared, if it had 
been filled with witticisms and quaint conceits ! 

Rut now, shall those, who ought to speak like 
apostles, gather up, with industrious affectation, 
those flowers of rhetoric which Demosthenes, 
Manlius, and Brutus, trampled on ? Shall we ima- 
gine that the ministers of (he gospel have less con- 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 233 

cern for the eternal salvation of souls, than Demos- 
thenes for the liberty of his country ; less zeal to 
do good, than Manlius had ambition to seduce the 
multitude ; or less resolution than Brutus, who 
chose death, rather than to owe his life to a 
tyrant ? 

I own, that the florid kind of eloquence has its 
beauties : but they are quite misapplied in those 
discourses which ought to be animated with the 
noblest passions ; and wherein there is no room for 
delicate turns of wit. The florid sort of rhetoric 
can never come up to the true sublime. What 
would the ancients have said of a tragedy, wherein 
Hecuba laments her misfortunes with points of wit ? 
True grief does not talk thus. Or what could we 
think of a preacher who should, in the most affected 
jingle of words, shew^ sinners the divine judgment 
hanging over their head, and hell open under 
their feet? There is a decency* to be observed 
in our language, as in our clothes. A disconso- 
late widow does not mourn in fringes, ribands, 
and embroidery. And an apostolical minister 

* Nunc, quid aptum sit, hoc est, quid maxime deceat ill 
oratione, videamus : quamquam id quidem perspicuum est, 
non omni causae, nee auditori, neque persona?, neque tempori 
congruere oration is unura genus. — Omnique in re posse, quod 
deceat, facere, artis et naturae est; scire, quid quaudoque de- 
ceat, prudential. Cicero de Or at. lib. iii. sect. 55. 



234 A LETTER TO THE 

ought not to preach the word of God in a pomp- 
ous stile, full of affected ornaments. The Pagans 
would not have endured to see even a comedy so 
ill acted. 

Ut ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adsunt 
llumani vultus. Si vis me flere, dolendum est 
Primum ipsi tibi : tunc tua me infortunia laedent, 
Telephe, vel Peleu : male si mandata loqueris, 
Aut dormitabo, aut ridebo : tristia moestum 

Vultum verba decent. » . 

Hor. de Art, Poet. 

We must not judge so unfavourably of elo- 
quence, as to reckon it only a frivolous art, which 
a declaimer uses to impose on the weak imagina- 
tion of the multitude, and to serve his own ends. 
It is a very serious art; designed to instruct 
people ; suppress their passions ; and reform their 
manners; to support the laws; direct public 
councils; and to make men good and happy. 
The more pains a haranguer takes to dazzle me, 
by the artifices of his discourse, the more I should 
despise his vanity. His eagerness to display bis 
wit, would, in my judgment, render him unworthy 
of the least admiration. I love a serious preach- 
er, who speaks for my sake, and not for his own ; 
who seeks my salvation, and not his own vain 
glory. He best deserves to be heard who uses 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 233 

speech only (o clothe his thoughts ; and his 
thoughts only to promote truth and virtue. No- 
thing is more despicable than a professed declaim- 
ed who retails his discourses as a quack does his 
medicines. 

I am willing this point should be determined 
by the very heathen. Plato would not permit, in 
his republic, such effeminate notes of music as the 
Lydians used. The Lacedemonians excluded 
from theirs all instruments that were too com- 
pounded, lest they should soften the people's 
temper. Such harmony, as serves merely to 
please the ear, is an amusement fit only for soft 
and idle persons ; and is unworthy of a well- 
ordered commonwealth. It is no farther valu- 
able than the sounds agree to the sense of the 
words, and the words inspire virtuous sentiments. 
Painting, sculpture, and other elegant arts, ought 
to have the same end. This ought, undoubtedly, 
to be the design of eloquence too. Pleasure ought 
to be mixed with it only to serve as a counter- 
poise to men's vicious passions, and to render vir- 
tue amiable. 

I would have an orator prepare himself a long 
time, by general study, to acquire a large stock of 
knowledge, and to qualify himself for composing 
well; that so he might need the less preparation 
for each particular discourse. I would have him 



236 A LETTER TO THE 

naturally a man of good sense ; and to reduce all 
he says to good sense *, as the standard of his dis- 
course. His studies should be solid : he should 
apply himself to reason justly ; and industriously 
avoid all subtle and over-refined notions. He 
should distrust his imagination ; and not let it in- 
fluence his judgment. He should ground every 
discourse upon some evident principle ; and from 
that draw the most obvious and natural conse- 
quences. 

Scribendi recte, sapere est et principium et fons : 
Rem tibi Socraticae poterunt ostendere charts : 
Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur. 
Quid didicit patriae quid debeat, et quid amicis, 
Quo sit amore parens, quo frater amandus et hospts ; 

, ille profecto 

Reddere personam scit convenientia cuique. 

Hon. de Art. Poet, 

Generally speaking, a florid declaimer knows 
neither the principles of sound philosophy, nor 

* Caeterarum artium studia fere reconditis atque abditis e 
fontibus hauriuntur : dicendi autem omnis ratio in medio po- 
sita, communi quodam in usu, atque in hominum more et ser- 
mone versatur : ut in ceteris id maxim e excellat, quod longis- 
§ime sit ab imperitorum intelligentia sensuque disjunctum : in 
dicendo autem vitium vel maximum sit, a vulgari genere ora- 
tionis, atque a consuetudine communis sensus almorrere. 

Cic. de Oral. lib. i. sect. 3. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 237 

those of the Christian doctrine, for perfecting the 
manners of men. He minds nothing but bright 
expressions, and ingenious turns. What lie chief- 
ly wants, is solid knowledge. He can talk hand- 
somely without knowing what he ought to say. 
He weakens the most important truths by his vain 
and elaborate turns of fancy or expression.* 

On the contrary, the true orator adorns t his 
discourse only with bright truths, noble senti- 
ments, and such strong expressions, as are adapt- 
ed to his subject, and to the passions he would ex- 
cite. He thinks, he feels, and his words flow na- 
turally from him. " He does not depend on 
" words," says St. Austin, " but they on him." 
A man who has a great and active soul, with a 
natural easiness of speech, improved by practice, 
needs never fear the want of expressions. His 
most ordinary discourses will have exquisite 

i 

* " Sublime ideas are uttered by every man, whose mind 

" is warmed ; but it is a progressive method, it is a well sup- 
u ported elocution/ it is a sound judgment, it is an excellent 
" and varied diction ; in fine, it is the perfection of language, 
" united to the sublimity of thought, which distinguishes elo- 
" quence." 

Abbe Maury's Principles of Eloquence. 

f Sed ornatus, repetam enim, virilis, fo^tis ct sanctus sit: 
nee effeminatam laevitateni, nee fuco eminentem colorem 

amet; sanguine et viribus *.;teat. Quint, lib. vhi. cup. 8, 



238 A LETTER TO THE 

strokes of oratory , which the florid haranguers can 
never imitate. He is not a slave to words ;* but 
closely pursues the truth. He knows that vehe- 
mence is, as it were, the soul of eloquence. He 
first lays down the principle which must serve to 
clear the subject of which he treats : he sets this 
principle in the fullest light : he turns it every 
way, to give his slowest hearers a view of it : he 
draws the remotest consequences from it by a 
concise and obvious train of reasoning. Every 
truth is set in its proper place with regard to the 
whole ; it prepares, leads on, and supports an- 
other truth which needed its assistance. This just 
order prevents the trouble of needless repetitions : 
but it retrenches none of those useful ones, which 
serve to direct the hearer's attention frequently to 
that chief point on which the whole depends. 
The orator must often shew him the conclusion 
which is contained in 'the principle; and from 
this principle, as from the centre, lie must spread 
a due light over all the parts of the discourse : as 
a skilful painter places the light so in his picture, 
as from one single point to distribute a due pro- 
portion of it to every figure. The whole discourse 
is one ; and may be reduced. to one single propo- 

* Propterea non debet quisquam ubi maxima rerum mo- 
menta versantur, de verbis ebse solicitus. 

Quint, lib. viii. cap. 3. 



French academy. 239 

sition, set in the strongest light, by various views 
and explications of it. This unity of design 
shews the whole performance at one view : as in 
the public places of a city, one may see all the 
streets and gates of it, when the streets are straight, 
equal, and duly proportioned. The discourse is 
the proposition unfolded ; and the proposition is 
an abstract of the discourse. 

Denique sit quodvis simplex duntaxat et unum. 

Hor. de Art. Poet. 

He, who perceives not the beauty and force 
of this unity and order, has never seen any thing 
in its full light. He has only seen shadows in 
Plato's cavern. What should we say of an archi- 
tect who could see no difference between a stately 
palace, whose apartments are adjusted with the 
exactest proportion, so as to make one uniform 
structure ; and a confused heap of little buildings, 
which do not compose one regular plan, though 
they be all placed together? What comparison 
is there betwixt the Colisaeum, and a confused 
multitude of irregular houses in a city ? There 
can be no true unity in any composition, unless 
there can be nothing taken from it without spoil- 
ing it. It never has a right order but when we 
cunnot displace any part without weakening, ob- 



240 A LETTER TO THE 

scuring, and disordering the whole. This is what 
Horace explains perfectly well. 

cui lecta potenter erit res, 



Nee facundia deseret hunc, nee lucidus ordo. 
Ordinis haec virtus erit, et Venus, aut ego fallor, 
Ut jam nunc dicat, jam nunc debentia dici 
Pleraque difterat, et prsesens in tempus omittat. 

Be Art. Poet. 

An author who does not thus methodize his 
discourse, is not fully master of his subject : he 
has but an imperfect taste, and a low genius* 
Order, indeed, is an excellence we seldom meet 
with in the productions of the mind. A discourse 
is perfect when it has at once method, propriety, 
strength, and vehemence. But, in order to this, 
the orator must have viewed, examined, and com- 
prehended every point, that he may range each 
word in its proper place.* This is what an ignorant 

* " It is an infallible proof of the want of just integrity 
u in every writer, from the epopa?, or heroic poem, down 
" to the familiar epistle, or slightest essay either in verse or 
* prose, if every several part or portion fits not its proper 
44 place so exactly, that the least transposition would be im- 
" practicable. — If there be any passage in the middle, or end, 
" which might have stood in the beginning; or any in the be- 
" ginning, which might have stood as well in the middle, or end; 
44 there is properly, in such a piece, neither beginning, middle, 
44 or end; it is a mere rhapsody, not a work. And the more it 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 241 

declaimer, who is guided by his imagination, can 
never discern. 

Isocrates is smooth, insinuating, and elegant: 
but can we compare him to Homer ? I will go 
farther ; and am not afraid to say, that I think De- 
mosthenes a greater** orator than Cicero. I pro- 
test there is no man admires Cicero more than I 
do. He embellishes every thing he handles. 
He is an honour to speech ; and makes that happy 
use of words which no one else could. He has a 
vast variety of wit. He is even concise and vehe- 
ment, when he designs to be so against Catiline, 
Verres, and Anthony : but we may perceive some 
finery in his discourses. His art is wonderful, but 
still Ave discern it. While he is concerned for the 

assumes the air or appearance of a real work, the more ridi- 
culous it becomes. Characteristics, vol. iii. page 259, 260. 

* Quorum ego virtutes plerasque arbitror similes, consi- 
lium, ordinem dividendi, praeparandi,probandi rationem; om- 
nia denique, quae sunt inventionis. In eloquendo est aliqua 
diversitas ; densior ille, [Demosthenes ;] hie [Cicero] copio- 
sior: ille concludit adstiictius ; hie latius pugnat : ille acu- 
mine semper ; hie frequenter et pondere : illi nihil detrahi po- 
test ; huic nihil adjici: Curse plus in hoc; in illo naturae. — • 
Cedendum vero in hoc quidem, quod ille et prior fuit, et ex 
magna parte Ciceronem, quantus est, fecit. Nam mihi vide- 
tur M. Tullius, cum se totum ad imitationem Graecorum con- 
tulisset, effinxisse vim Demosthenis, copiam Platonis, jucun- 

ditatem Isocratis. Quist* lib. x. cap. 1. 

R 



feg$ A LETTER TO THE 

safety of the republic, he does not forget that he 
is an orator ; nor does he let others forget it. 
Demosthenes seems transported, and to have no- 
thing in view but his country. He does not study 
what is beautiful, but naturally falls into it, with- 
out reflecting. He is above admiration. He uses 
speech, as a modest man does his clothes, only to 
cover himself. He thunders, he lightens: he is 
like a torrent which hurries every thing along with 
it. We cannot criticise him ; for he is master of 
our passions. We consider the things he says, 
and not his words. We lose sight of him : we 
think of Philip only, who usurps every thing. I 
am charmed with these two orators ; but I confess 
that Tully's prodigious art and magnificent elo- 
quence affects me less than the vehement simpli- 
city of Demosthenes.* 

Art t lessens and exposes itself, when it is too 
open. Thus Longinus says,;f; that " Isocrates 

. * For a comparison between Cicero and Demosthenes, 
die reader may consult Rollings Belles Lett res, vol. ii. 
chap. 3; sect. 3. — Dr. Blair's Led. vol. ii. — Mr. Hume's 
Essays, vol. i. essay 12. — Knox's Essays, vol. i. No. 44. , 

t Sed hoc pati non possumus, et perire artem putamus, 
nisi apparent : cum desinat ars esse, si apparet. 

Quint, lib. iv. cap, 2. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 243 

u blundered like a school-boy, when he began one 
w of his panegyricks in this manner :" — ' Seeing 
* such is the nature of eloquence, that it can make 
' great things appear little, and small things to 
c seem great; that it can represent the oldest 
c things as new, and the newest as old.' — u Is it 
" thus, O Isocrates !" one might say, " that you 
e are going to change all things with regard to 
u the Lacedemonians and the Athenians ? By 
u this manner of praising eloquence, he makes a 
u preamble to caution his hearers against believ- 
" ing any thing he should say." In effect, it 
was to declare to the world, that orators are only 
sophists, such as Plato's Gorgias was, and the 
other declaimers of Greece ; who perverted rhe- 
toric to impose on the people. 

Since eloquence requires that an orator should 
be a man of probity, and be esteemed such, if he 
would expect success in the most common affairs 

xat ra [LiyyJAa, rccTreivcc 7roiY)cai 9 v.ct* rotq (jak^oh; Trsg&ewah 
i( usy£<Joc, y.oa ru r ita,7\CL\oi xoavv; ei7T€iv 9 v.otk ttzpl tuv vsw^i 
6( osyswfA-svuv uqxjz'wc a*iAveiv m Ovx&v, (pycri Tig, l&oxpcnrjt;, 
aruq [xsXT^&iq xca 7a Trspi Aaxzocc,i[A.ov / iuv y.cn A^^vct\uv oiva.\- 
Xefnetv ; T^idov ycto to Turn }\oyuv syy,cjf.iiov cc?ri<ria,<; n:r^q v.ctS, 1 

Loxcrxi.s, sect, xxxviii. 



2U A LETTER TO THE 

of life : how much greater reason have we to be- 
lieve this saying of St. Austin, concerning those 
who ought to speak like apostles ? ' He preaches 
c sublimely, whose life is irreproachable.'* What 
good can we expect from the discourses of a young 
man without solid knowledge, without experience, 
without an established character ; who makes a di- 
version of oratory ; and, perhaps, endeavours to 
raise his fortune by that ministry which obliges us 
to be poor with Jesus Christ ; to bear our cross 
with him, by self-denial ; and to command men's 
passions in order to convert them ? 

Before I conclude this head, I must add a few 
words concerning the eloquence of the fathers ; far 
some learned men judge of them too unfavourably. 
They form a character of it from Tertullian's harsh 
metaphors ; or some swelling periods of St. Cy- 
prian ; from some perplexed passages of St. Am- 
brose ; some over-refined jingling antitheses of St. 
Austin; or some quibbles of St. Chrysologus. 

* " With respect to preaching, the whole of it depends on 
u piety. It is that which makes you seek out edifying sub- 
il jects, and confine yourselves to such as are useful and ne- 
" cessary. That gives force and unction to your discourse, 
" and makes you say affecting things. A pious man under- 
u stands the human heart : piety is the source of true elo- 
" quence, which is natural, simple, and sublime." 

Ostervald's Lect. h 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 245 

Bui they should consider the corrupted taste of the 
times in which the fathers lived. Rome began to 
lose its just taste soon after Augustus' reign. Ju- 
venal is less delicate than Horace. There is a 
shocking bombast in the style of Seneca the trage- 
dian, and Lucan. At length Rome entirely de- 
clined. Solid learning ran low at Athens, and the 
false refinements of wit prevailed, when St. Basil 
and St. Gregory Nazianzen went thither. The 
fathers, being trained up under the weak declaimers 
of their times, were led away by the common pre- 
judice ; which the wisest men scarce ever resist. 
It was not thought tolerable, then, to speak in an 
easy natural way. The world was in the same con- 
dition as to eloquence, which we should be in now, 
as to dress, if no body dared to appear in a fine cloth, 
without loading it with the thickest embroidery. 
According to this fashion, we ought always to de- 
claim, and never talk easily to an audience. But 
if we had the patience to examine the works of the 
fathers, we should find many valuable things in 
them. St. Cyprian has a grandeur and vehemence 
which somewhat resembles Demosthenes. In St. 
Chrysostom we find an exact judgment, noble 
images, and a solid morality explained in the most 
obvious agreeable manner.* St. Austin is at once 

* " The diction of St. Chrvsostom is pure and splendid ; 
" liis eloquence is tender and persuasive : and he abounds so 



246 A LETTER TO THE 

sublime and popular. He leads us to the highest 
notions, by the most familiar turns of expression. 
He asks questions ; he puts questions to himself; 
he answers them. His discourse is a sort of con- 
versation between him and his audience. He uses 
pertinent comparisons to clear eyery doubt. We 
see him sometimes condescend to the lowest and 
coarsest apprehensions of the people, in order to 
reclaim them. St. Bernard was a prodigy in an 
age of the grossest ignorance. We find in his 
works delicacy, and nobleness, a happy turn ; and 
both tenderness and vehemence. We are sur- 
prised at every thing that is great or beautiful in 
the writings of the fathers, when we know the times 
in which they lived. We forgive Montaigne his 
Gascon expressions, and Marot his old language : 
why then may we not overlook, in the fathers, the 
swelling style of their age, with which they ex- 
press the most valuable truths in the liveliest 
manner ? 

But I am not here to attempt a work, which is 
reserved for some learned pen. It is enough that 
I hint in general what may be expected from the 
author of an excellent rhetoric. He might adorn 
his work by imitating Cicero's manner of mixing 

u much in sublime descriptions, or ingenious ideas, that we 
" find passages to quote in every page of his writings." 

Abbe Maury's Principles of Eloquence 



FRENCH ACADEMY. £±7 

examples and precepts together. ** They who 
" have a penetrating vehement temper/' says St. 
Austin, " learn oratory better by reading the works 
" of eloquent authors, than by studying the rules 
" of art." One might give an agreeable account 
of the different characters .of orators, their manner, 
their taste, and their mixims. They ought even 
to be compared together, to : enable the reader to 
judge of the distinct excellence of each. 

V. A treatise on Poetry seems to be as much 
wanted as a rhetoric. Poetry is a more serio.us and 
useful art than common people imagine. Religion 
consecrated it to its own use from the very begin- 
ning of the world. Before men had a text of di- 
vine scripture, the sacred songs, which they learned 
by heart, preserved the remembrance of the crea- 
tion, and the tradition of God's wonderful works. 
Nothing can equal the magnificence and transport 
of the songs of Moses. The book of Job is a poem 
full of the boldest and most majestic figures. The 
Song of Solomon gracefully and tenderly expresses 
the mysterious union of God with the soul of man, 
which becomes his spouse. The Psalms will be 
the admiration and comfort of all ages, and all na- 
tions who know the true God. The whole scrip- 
ture is full of poetry, even in those places where 



248 A LETTER TO THE 

there is not the least appearance of versifica- 
tion.* 

Besides, poetry gave the world its first laws : 
it softened men's wild and savage tempers : it drew 
them from the forests where they wandered about, 
and civilized them : it governed their manners : it 
formed families and nations ; and made them relish 
the sweets of society : it restored the exercise of 
reason : it cultivated virtue ; and invented polite 
arts: it animated people's courage for war ; and 
disposed them likewise for the calm enjoyments of 
peace. 

Silvestres homines sacer interpresque deorum 
Caedibus et victu fcedo deterruit Orpheus; 
Dictus ob hoc lenire tygres, rabidosque leones : 
DictuS et Amphion, Thebanae conditor arcis 
Saxa movere sono testudinis, et prece blanda 
Ducere quo vellet. Fuit haec sapientia quondam, 
Sic honor et nomen divinis vatibus atque 
Carminibus venit. Post hos insignis Homerus 
Tyrtseusque mares animos in martia bella 
Versibus exacuit Hon. Art. Poet, 

Speech, animated by lively images, noble 
figures, the transport of passions, and the charms 
of harmony, was called the language of the gods : 
even the most barbarous nations felt its power. 

* See page 156, &c. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 249 

As poetasters deserve the utmost neglect ; so 
we cannot enough admire and encourage a true 
poet,* who does not use poetry as a sport of fancy, 
to gain himself a vain applause ; but employs it 
to inspire men with the love of wisdom, virtue, 
and religion. 

* " I must confess there is hardly any where to be found 
" a more insipid race of mortals than those whom we moderns 
" are contented to call poets, for having attained the chiming 
" faculty of a language, with an injudicious random use of wit 
" and fancy. But for the man who truly, and in a just sense, 
u deserves the name of poet, and who, as a real master or 
" architect in the kind, can describe both men and manners, 
" and give to an action its just body and proportions, he will 
" be found, if I mistake not, a very different creature. Such 
" a poet — forms a whole, coherent and proportioned in itself, 
u with due subjection and subordination of constituent parts. 
" He notes the boundaries of the passions, and knows their 
" exact tones and measures ; by which he justly represents 
" them; marks the sublime of sentiments and action; and 
" distinguishes the beautiful from the deformed ; the amiable 
" from the odious. The moral artist, who can thus imitate 
u the Creator, and is thus knowing in the inward form and 
" structure of his fellow-creature, will hardly, I presume, be 
u found unknowing in himself, or at a loss in th >se numbers 
u which make the harmony of a mind. For knavery is mere 
" dissonance and disproportion. And though villains inaj 
u have strong tones and natural capacities of action, it is im- 
" possible that true judgment and ingenuity should reside 
u where harmony and honesty have no being." 

Ckaract. vol. i. p. C0£, 203, 



250 A LETTER TO THE 

May I not be allowed here to express the con- 
cern it gives me, when I consider, that the per- 
fecting our French versification seems almost im- 
possible. What confirms me in this apprehension, 
is, that our greatest poels have made many sorry 
verses. No body has written finer ones than Mai* 
herbe : but how many has he made that are far 
below his character ! Even those of our most 
admired poets, who have been most uniform and 
Steady in their compositions, have yet written 
several lines that are rugged, obscure, and heavy. 
By endeavouring to give their thoughts a delicate 
turn, they sometimes make them unintelligible. 
They often use forced epithets, to hit the rhyme : 
so that several of their verses might be struck out, 
without losing one beauty. This easily appears, 
"when we examine their works rigorously. 

If I be not mistaken, our versification loses 
more than it gains by rhyme.* It loses much 
variety, easiness, and harmony. The rhyme, 

* u But those revered bards [Shakspeare, Milton, and 

" others] — to their eternal honour, have withal been the first 

" of Europeans who, since the Gothic model of poetry, at- 

" tempted to throw off the horrid discord of jingling rhyme. 

" They have asserted ancient poetic liberty, and have happily 

€i broken the ice for those who are to follow them; and who, 

" treading in their footsteps, may, at leisure, polish our hm- 

" gi.iage, lead our ear to liner pleasure, find out the true ryth- 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 231 

which a poet labours after, makes him sometimes 
lengthen, and enervate his period. He is forced 
to use two or three useless lines, to introduce the 
rhyme he wants. Indeed poets are more scrupu- 
lous* about the exactness of their rhymes, than 
the solidity of their thoughts and sentiments, the 
clearness of their style, the easiness of their turn, 
and the nobleness of their expressions. Rhyme 

u mus and harmonious numbers, which alone can satisfy a 
" just judgment, and muse-like apprehension." 

Charact. vol. i. p. 217, 218. 

* " But so much are our British poets taken up in seek- 
u ing out that monstrous ornament which we call rhyme, that 
" it is no wonder if other ornaments and real graces are un- 
" thought of. However, since in some parts of poetry, espe- 
" cially in the dramatic, we have been so happy as to triumph 
" over this barbarous taste ; it is unaccountable that cur 
" poets, who, from this privilege, ought to undertake some 
" farther refinements, should remain still upon the same level 
* as before. It is a shame to our authors, that, in their ele- 
" gant style, and metred prose, there should not be found a 
•" peculiar grace and harmony, resulting from a more natural 
" and easy disengagement of their periods, and from a care- 
" ful avoiding the encounter of the shocking consonants and 
" jarring sounds, to which our language is so unfortunately 
" subject. — Even a prose author, who attempts to write po- 
" litely, should endeavour to confine himself within those 
" bounds, which can never, without breach of harmony, be 
" exceeded in any just metre or agreeable pronunciation." 

Charact, vol. iii. p, 263, 2(31, 265, 



259 A LETTER TO THE 

gives us only the same sounds in the last syllable 
of each couplet; which is so tiresome and grating 
to the ear, that we avoid it in prose. This repe- 
tition of the same sound is even cloying in great 
heroic verses, where two masculine terms are al- 
ways followed by two feminine. 

It is true, we find more harmony in odes and 
stanzas ; where the rhymes, being intermixed, 
have a greater cadence and variety. But our 
lofty heroic verses, which require the sweetest, 
most various, and most majestic sounds, have 
often least of this perfection. 

Pindaric verses have oftentimes the same in* 
termixture of rhymes that odes have; and their 
boundless irregularity leaves the poet room to 
vary their measure and cadence as he pleases, 
cither to rise or fall in his verse. M. de la Fon- 
taine has made an excellent use of this freedom. 

However, I would not propose to have rhyme 
quite laid aside : our versification could not sub- 
sist without it. Our language has not that diver- 
sity of long and short syllables, which, in the 
Greek and the Latin, composed the feet and the 
measure of verse. But I am of opinion, it would 
be proper to allow our poets a little more liberty 
in their rhymes, that they might be more exact in 
the sense and harmony of their verses 

By abating somewhat of the exactness in 



FRENCH ACADEMY. f53 

rhymes, reason and good sense would be more 
closely followed. They might the more easily 
hit what is truly beautiful, great, simple, and na- 
tural. — This would free our greatest poets from 
the necessity of using forced turns, stiff epithets, 
and perplexed conceits. 

The example of the Greeks and Latins might 
encourage us to take this liberty. Their versifi- 
cation was, beyond all comparison, easier than 
ours. Rhyme alone is more difficult than all 
their rules together ; and yet the Greeks had re- 
course to their different dialects. Besides, both 
Greeks and Latins had superfluous syllables, 
which they freely added, to complete their 
verses. Horace took great liberty this way in 
the versification of his Satires, his Epistles, and 
even in some Odes. Why might, not we find out 
some such reliefs ; seeing our versification is so 
cramping, and so apt to allay the fire of a good 
poet ? 

The severity of our language, in not allowing 
almost any inversion of phrases, still vastly in- 
creases the difficulty of making French verse. 
A poet is forced to put his fancy on the rack in 
every composition, without the least advantage or 
necessity. One would be apt to think, that we 
studied rather what is perplexing, than what is 
beautiful. For, the placing a syllable right costs 



254 A LETTER TO THE 

our poets as much thought and pains, as the 
noblest sentiments, the liveliest painting, or the 
boldest touches. On the contrary, the ancients, 
by frequent inversions, made the sweetest ca- 
dence, variety, and passionate expressions, easy 
to the poet. Inversions were even turned into 
noble figures; and kept the mind suspended, in 
expectation of something great. We have an 
instance of this iu Virgil's eighth eclogue : 

Pastorum musam, Damonis et Alphesiboei, 
Immemor herbarum quos est mirata juvenca, 
Certantes, quorum stupefactaa carmine lynces, 
Et mutata suos requierunt mimina cursus; 
Damonis musam dicemus, et Alphesiboei. 

Eclogue viii. 

If you take away this inversion, and place the 
words according to the grammatical order and 
construction, you destroy ail their force, and 
grace, and harmony. It is this suspension which 
strikes the reader. How faint and scrupulous is 
our language in tins point ! Dare we imitate this 
verse, in which every word is placed differently 
from the grammatical order? 

Aret nger, vitio morions sitit aeris herba. 

When Horace would prepare his readers for 
some great object, he leads them on without shew- 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 255 

ing them whither they are going, or giving them 
time to breathe : 

Qualem ministrum fulminis alitem. 

Hor. Od. lib. iv. ode 3. 

I confess we must not introduce a great num- 
ber of these inversions into our language all at 
once : we are not accustomed to them : they 
would seem harsh and very obscure. Methinks 
M. Boileau's pindaric ode is not free from that 
imperfection. I take the more freedom in mak- 
ing this remark, because, in other respects, I ad- 
mire the works of that great poet. We ought to 
choose the gentlest inversions at first, and such as 
come nearest to these which our language already 
permits. For instance, our whole nation have ap- 
proved of these : 

La se perdent ces noms de maitre de la terre, 
Et tombent avec eux d'une chute commune 

Tous ceux que leur fortune 

Faisoit ieurs serviteurs.* 

Ronsard undertook too much at once. By his 
obscure and bold transpositions, he forced our lan- 
guage too much, and made it harsh and confused. 

* Ma t HE JIBE, liv. vi. 



256 A LETTER TO THE 

He introduced too many compounded words, to 
which the nation had not been accustomed. He 
spoke French in Greek, in spite of the French 
themselves. 1 think he was in the right to open 
some new way of enriching our language ; to give 
force to our poetry, and to facilitate our versifica- 
tion, which began then to be improved. But in 
the point of language, nothing can be effected 
without the consent of those for whom we write. 
We ought never to make two steps at once ; but 
must stop short when we find that the multitude 
do not follow us. Singularity is dangerous almost 
in every thing ; and can never be excused in 
things which depend only on custom. 

The shocking freedom of Ronsard led us a 
little into the opposite extreme. We have so 
cramped and impoverished our language, that it 
dares never proceed otherwise than according to 
the most scrupulous and uniform method of gram- 
mar. A nominative substantive appears first, 
leading in its adjective, as it were, by the hand : 
its verb constantly follows it, attended with an ad- 
verb which admits of nothing between them : and 
the rule next acquires an accusative, which must 
always keep its place. This excludes all suspen- 
sion of mind, all expectation, surprise, variety; 
and oftentimes all noble cadence. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 257 

¥ 

On the other hand, I grant, that we ought ne- 
ver to run the hazard of ambiguity. I would even 
have Quintilian's f. rule generally observed, so as 
to avoid such expressions as the reader may in- 
deed understand; but which he could not under- 
stand, if he did not supply something that they 
want. We should use a simple, t exact, easy 
style, which lays every thing open to the reader, 
and even prevents his attention. When an author 
writes for the public, he should take all the pains 
imaginable to prevent his reader's having any. 
All the labour should be his own : and he should 
leave nothing but pleasure and instruction to his 
readers. They should never be put to the trouble 
of finding out his meaning. None but those who 
deal in riddles are allowed to puzzle people, 
Augustus would rather have frequent repetitions 
used, than that there should be the least degree of 
obscurity in a discourse. Indeed the first care of 
one who writes only to be understood, is to ease 
his readersby expressing himself clearly. 

* Quare non ut intelligere possit, sed ne omnincx possit 
non intelligere curandum.- Quint. Inslit. lib. viii. cap. 2. 

t Nobis prima sit virtus perspicuitas, propria verba, rec- 
tus ordo, non in longum dilata conclusio : nihil neque desk, 
neoue superfluat. Ita sermo et doctis probabilis, et planus 

imperitis eiit, Ql:nt. Insttt. lib. viii. cap. & 

S 



258 A LETTER TO THE 

It must be owned, that our greatest French 
poets, being cramped by the strict rules of our ver- 
sification, sometimes fail in this point of entire 
perspicuity. He who thinks much, has much to 
say, and is unwilling to lose any thing : he sets a 
value on all the fruits of his invention, and la- 
bours hard to crowd various thoughts into the nar- 
row compass of a verse. He affects too great de- 
licacy ; and this degenerates into forced, far- 
fetched conceits. He endeavours to dazzle and 
surprise his readers, to convince them that he has 
more wit than they, and to gain their admiration : 
whereas he should never discover more wit than 
they have ; but increase and quicken theirs, with- 
out displaying his own. An author is not satisfied 
with plain reason, native graces, and lively senti- 
ments, which are the true perfection of a dis- 
course : self-love makes him over-shoot the mark. 
He uses no moderation in studying what is beauti- 
ful ; and knows not how to check his fancy by 
avoiding gaudy superfluous ornaments. Accord- 
ing to the Italian proverb, " He loses what is 
" good, by aiming at better." He runs into the 
fault of throwing too much salt and wit into his 
compositions, and giving too high a gout to what 
lie seasons. He imitates those who load a suit 
with too much embroidery. They who have a 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 259 

just taste, avoid excess in every thing, even in wit 
itself. Wit grows tiresome when it is affected, ■ 
and lavishly used. He shews most wit who knows 
when to check its sallies, that he may adapt him- 
self to people's capacities, and smooth the way for 
them. Those poets who have the most soaring ge- 
nius, and the greatest reach of thought and inven- 
tion, should particularly guard themselves against 
such an excess of wit. They will say, perhaps, 
that it is a beautiful failing ; a noble, and very un- 
common one. I own it is so : but it is a real fail- 
ing, and one of the most difficult to be corrected. 
Horace would have an author rigorously strict in 
criticising his own works. 

Vir bonus et prudens versus reprehendet incites ; 
Culpabit duros ; incomtis allinet atrum 
Transverso c alamo signum ; ambitiosa recidet 
Ornamenta; parum claris lucem dare coget; 
Arguet ambigue dictum; mutanda notabit. 

Hon. Art. Poet. 

There is much gained by losing all superfluous 
ornaments, and confining ourselves to such beau- 
ties as are simple, easy, clear, and seemingly ne- 
gligent. In poetry, as well as in architecture, all 
the necessary parts should be turned into natural 
ornaments. But that which serves merely as an 
ornament, is superfluous : lay it aside ; there will 

s2 



£60 A LETTER TO THE 

be nothing wanting : vanity is the only sufferer by 
the loss. An author that has too much wit, and 
will always shew it, wearies and exhausts mine. 
I do not desire so very much. If he shewed less, 
he would give me time to breathe, and be far more 
agreeable. He keeps my thoughts too much upon 
the stretch : the reading of his verses becomes a 
mere study. So many flashes dazzle me. I love 
a gentle light, which refreshes my weak eyes. I 
choose an agreeable poet, that adapts himself to 
common capacities \ who does every thing for 
their sakes, and nothing for his own. I would have 
a sublime so familiar, so sweet, and so simple, that 
at first every reader would be apt to think he could 
easily have hit on it himself, though very few are 
really capable of it. I prefer what is amiable to 
what is surprising and wonderful. I would have a 
man who makes me forget he is an author, and 
seems to converse with me upon the level. I would 
have him set before mine eyes, a labourer who is 
concerned for his crop ; a shepherd who knows 
nothing beyond his flock and his village ; a nurse 
tenderly anxious for her infant. I would have him 
turn my attention not on himself, but on the shep- 
herds whom he makes to speak. 

Despectus tibi sum; nee qui sim quaeris, Alexi: 
Quam dives pecuris nivei, quam lactis abundans 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 261 

Mille meae Siculis errant in montibus agnae : 
Lac mihi non restate novum, non frigore desit ; 
Canto, quae solitus, si quando armenta vocabat, 
Amphion Dircaeus in Actaeo Aracyntho. 
Nee sum adeo informis; nuper me in littore vidi, 

Cum placidum ventis staret mare 

Virg. Eel. ii. 

How much more beautiful is this rural simpli- 
city, than a nice over-strained turn of wit ! 

Ex noto fictum carmen sequar ; ut sibi quivis 
Speret idem ; sudet multum, frustraque laboret 
Ausus idem. Tantum series juncturaque pollet; 
Tantum de medio sumtis accedit honoris. 

Hor. Art. Poet. 

How truly great is he who stoops thus to his sub* 
ject, that he may paint every thing to the life, and 
hit the various characters he draws ! How much is 
he above what we call ingenuity, when he is not 
afraid of concealing a part of his wit ! A work 
cannot be truly beautiful, unless the author keep 
himself out of sight, and let me forget him. He 
must leave me alone in full liberty. For instance, 
Virgil disappears; and I fancy that I see this 
pleasant abode : 

Muscosi fontes, et somno mollior herba. 

Eel. vii. 



262 A LETTER TO THE 

I cannot help wishing I were in this other 
place : 

— O mihi turn qu&m molliter ossa quiescant, 

Vestra tneos olim si fistula dicat amores ! 

Atque utinam ex vobis uuus, vestrique fuissem 

Aut custos gregis, aut matune vinitor uvae ! 

Ilic gelidi fontes, hie mollia prata, Lycori 

Hie nemus - — — « — 

Virg. Eel. x. 

I almost envy the happiness of those who live 
in that delightful spot which Horace describes; 

Quo pinus ingens, albaque populus 
Umbr m hospitalem consociare amant 
Kamis, et obliquo laborat 
Lyinpha fugax trepidare rivo. 

Car. lib, ii. ode 3. 

I am far more pleased with this shade and this 
stream, than witli an impertinent wit who does not 
let me rest. The charms of these authors never 
decay. They are so far from pleasing less upon 
a review, that every reading discloses new beau- 
ties. The perusal of them is not a study ; it ra- 
ther calms arid unbends our thoughts. Bright and 
over-wrought compositions, dazzle and delude the 
fancy : but they have so fmc an edge, that it is 
quickly blunted. I value neither what is difficult, 
nor uncommon, nor wonderful : the simple, na* 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 263 

tural, easy beauty hits my taste. If the flowers 
we tread upon in a meadow, be as pretty as those 
in the finest garden, I love them better. I do not 
grudge such enjoyments to any one. Beauty 
could lose none of its worth, though it were com- 
mon to all mankind : it would rather be the more 
excellent, Scarcity is a defect, and a want in na* 
tuxe. The rays of the sun are not a less valuable 
treasure for shining upon all the universe. I love 
a beauty so natural that it should not need the adr 
vantage of novelty to surprise me. I would have 
its charms such as never to fade, but always to al- 
lure and delight me : 



i &* 



decies repetita placebunt. 

Hoe. Art. Poet. 

Poetry is certainly an imitation of nature, and 
a sort of painting. Let us suppose, then, that Ra- 
phael were busy about a picture, he would avoid 
drawing whimsical figures, unless he were work- 
ing on grotesque. He would not use too bright 
colouring : he would be so far from desiring his 
art should be obvious to the eye, that he would 
do all he can to conceal it. lie endeavoured to 
deceive the spectator, and to make him fancy that 
his picture is Christ himself transfigured upon the 
mount Tabor. It is truth alone which gives a 
value to his painting. Art is defective when it 



264 A LETTER TO THE 

over-does : it should always aim at an exact like- 
ness. Since it is delightful in one of Titian's 
country-pieces, to see the goats climbing up a 
hanging rock ; or to observe a country-feast and 
rustic dances, in one of Taisniere's pictures ; it is 
no wonder that we are pleased with such natural 
descriptions of human life, as we find in the Odys- 
sey. We fancy ourselves to be in those places 
which Homer describes, and that we see and hear 
people there. This simplicity of manners seems 
to bring back the golden age. I am more pleased 
with honest Eumeus, than with any hero of Clelia 
or Cleopatra. The foolish prejudices of the pre- 
sent age, make us undervalue such beauties. 
But our follies cannot lessen the true worth of such 
a simple rational life. Unhappy are they who do 
not feel the charms of these verses : 

Fortunate senex, hie inter flumina nota, 
Et fontes sacros, frigus captabis opacum. 

Virg. Eel, i. 

Nothing can go beyond this description of a 
country life : 

O fortunatos nimium, sua si bona norint, 
Auricolas! quibus ipsa, procul discordibus armis, 
Fundat humo facilem victual justissima tellus. 
At secura quies, et nescia fallere vita, 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 265 

Dives opum variarum ; at latis otia fundis, 

Speluncae, vivique lacus. ■ 

Virg. Georg. ii. 

Every part of it pleases me : even this place, 
which is so remote from romantic notions : 



-at frigida Tempe 



Mugitusque boum, mollesque sub arbore somni 
Non absunt. Ibid. 

In the same manner am I delighted with Ho- 
race's solitude : 

O rus, quando ego te aspiciam ? quandoque licebit, 
Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno et inertibus horis, 
Ducere sollicitae jucunda oblivia vitae ? 

Satir. lib. ii. sat. 6*. 

The ancients did not think it enough to copy 
nature exactly : their pictures were moving as well 
as true. 

Homer never paints a youth going to fall in 
battle, without giving him some affecting charms. 
He represents him full of valour and virtue : he 
raises your love and concern for him : he makes 
you dread the danger which threatens him. He 
shews you his father oppressed with age, and 
alarmed at the danger of his dear son. He shews 
you his new-married spouse trembling for him, and 



266 A LETTER TO THE 

you tremble with her : the poet ensnares your pas- 
sions. His design, in affecting you with so much 
beauty and sweetness, is only to prepare you for the 
fatal moment, wherein you suddenly see the man 
you loved so much, weltering in his blood, and 
his eyes closed in an eternal night. 

Virgil took as much care to raise our concern 
for Pallas, Evander's son, as Homer did to make 
us lament Patroclus. We are pleased with the 
grief we feel for Nlsus and Euryalus. I have seen 
a young prince, but eight years old, struck with 
sorrow at the sight of little JoashV danger ;* and 
vexed at the high-priest's concealing his name and 
royal birth from him. I have seen him weep bit- 
terly at hearing these verses ; 

All miseram Eurydicen, anima fugiente, vocabat: 
Eurydicen toto referebant flumine ripae. 

Virc. Georg. iv. 

Was ever any thing more happily contrived, 
or fitter to raise a lively sentiment, than this dream 
of yEneas ? 

Tempus erat, quo prima quies mortalibus segris 
Incipit, et tlono Divum gratissima serpit. 
In somnis, ecce ! ante oculos mcestissiinus Hector 
Visus adesse mihi, 

* 2 Kings, xi. 2. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 257 

Raptatus bigis, ut quondam, aterque cruento 
Pulvere, perque pedes trajectus lora tumentes. 
Hei mihi, qualis erat ! quantum mutatus ab illo 
liectore, qui redit exuvias indutus Achillei. 

Virg. JEneid. lib. ii. 

Ille nihil : nee me qnaerentem vana moratur : 

Heu fuge, nate Dea, teque his, ait, eripe flammis : 

Ilostis habet muros : ruit alto a cuhnine Troja. 

Sat patriae, Priamoque datum 

Sacra suosque tibi commendat Troja penates : 

Hos cape fatorum comites ■ Ibid. 

Could wit move the heart in this manner: 
Ccin one read the following passage without being 
touched ? 

O mihi sola mei super Astyanactis imago ! 
Sic oculos, sic ille mantis, sic ora ferebat ; 
Et nunc aequali tecum pubesceret gevo. 

Id. lib. iii. 

Turns of wit would be very unseasonable, and 
even shocking, in such a tender passage, where 
grief alone could be allowed to speak. 

The poet never mentions the death of any per- 
son, without describing some peculiar circumstance 
that must affect the reader. We are grieved for 
distressed virtue, when we read this passage ; 

■ cad it et Ripheus, justissimus unus 
Qui fuit in Teucris, et servantissimus aequi. 
Dis aliter visum 1 Id. lib. ii. 



26$ A LETTER TO THE 

We fancy ourselves in the midst of Troy, 
seized with horror and compassion, when we read 
these lines: 

Turn pavidae tectis matres ingentibus errant, 
Amplexaeque tenent postes, atque oscuia figunt. 

Mneid, lib. ii. 

Vidi Hecuham, centumque nurus, Priamumque per aras 
Sanguine fcedantem, quos ipse sacraverat, ignes. Ibid, 

Arma diu senior desueta trementibus aevo 
Circumdat nequiequam humeris, et inutile ferrum 
Cingitur, ac densos fertur moriturus in hostes. Ibid. 

Sic fatus senior; telumque imbelle sine ictu 

Conjecit ■ Ibid. 

Nunc morere. Hose dicens, altaria ad ipsa trementem 
Traxit, et in multo lapsantem sanguine nati: 
Implicuitque comam laeva, dextraque coruscum 
Extulit, ac lateri capulo tenus abdidit ensem. 
Haec finis Priami fatorum : hie exitus ilium 
Sorte tulit, Trojam incensam, et prolapsa videntein 
Pergama; tot quondam populis terrisque superbum 
Regnatorem Asiag : jacet ingens littore truncus, 
Avulsumque humeris caput, et sine nomine corpus. 
At me turn primum saevus circumstetit horror : 
Obstupui Ibid. 

Respicio, et, quae sit me circum copia, lustro. 

Deseruere omnes defessi, et corpora saltu 

Ad terram misere, aut ignibus aegra dedere. Ibid. 

The poet does not represent Eurydice's mis- 
fortune, without shewing her just ready once more 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 269 

to view the light ; and, in a moment, plunged 
again into the infernal gloomy shades. 

Jamque pedem referens, caSus- evaserat omnes ; 
Redditaque Eurydice superas veniebat ad auras. 

Georg. lib. h\ 

Ilia, quis et me, inquit, miseram, et te perdidit Orpbeu? 
Quis tantus furor ? en iterum crudelia retro 
Fata vocat, conditque natantia lumina somnus. 
Jamque vale : feror ingenti circumdata nocte, 
Invalidasque tibi tendens, heu ! non tua, palmas. 

Ibid. 

We sympathise even with those wretched 
cattle which the poet sets before our eyes : 

Propter aqua rivum viridi procumbit in ulva 
Perdita, nee serae meminit decedere nocti. 

Eclogue viii. 

The pestilence raging among them makes a 
very moving picture : 

Hinc laetis vituli vulgo moriuntur in herbis ; 
Et dulces animas plena ad prsesepia reddunt. 

Georg. lib. iii. 
Labitur infelix studiorum, atque immemor herbae, 
Victor equus; fontesque avertitur, etped^ terrain 
Crebra ferit Ibid. 

Ecce autem duro fumans sub vomere tauru9 
Concidit, et mix turn spumis vomit ore cruorem, 
Extremosque ciet gemitus : it tristis arator 



270 A LETTER TO THE 

Mcerentem abjungens fraterna morte juvencum; 
Atque opere in medio defixa relinquit aratra. 
Non umbrae altorum nemorum, non mollia possunt 
Praia movere animum ; non qui per saxa volutus 
Purior electro campum petit amnis : at ima 
Solvuntur latera : atque oculos stupor urget inertes : 
Ad terramque fluit devexo pondere cervix. 

; George lib. iii. 

This poet gives life and ptission to every ob- 
ject. In his verses every thing thinks and feels : 
the very trees move you. 

Exiit ad coelum ramis felicibus arbos, 
Miratnrque novas frondes, et non sua poma. 

Id. lib. ii. 

A flower raises your pity, when Virgil paints it 
just drooping : 

Purpureus veluti cum flos succisus aratro 
Languescit moriens. JEneid. lib. ix. 

You think you see the smallest plants, which 
the spring revives and adorns : 

Inque novos soles audent se gram in a tuto 
Credere Gcorg. lib. ii. 

A nightingale is Philomela moving your pas- 
sion for her misfortunes : 

Quails populea mcerens Philomela sub umbra 
Amissos queritur foetus, quos durus arator 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 271 

Observans nido implumes detraxit : at ilia 
Flet noctem, ramoque sedens miserabile carmen 
Integral, et moestis iate loca questibus implet. 

Georg, lib. iv. 

Horace, in three verses, draws a picture, in 
which every thing is lively and affecting. 

. fugit retro 

Levis juventas et decor, arida 
Pellente lascivos amores 

Canitie, facilemque somnum. 

Carm* lib. ii. ode 11. 

Would he, with two strokes of his pencil, 
draw two men whom every body must know at 
first sight ? he sets before your eyes the incorri- 
gible folly of Paris, and the implacable rage of 
Achilles : 

Quid Paris ? ut salv.us regnet, vivatque beatus, 
Cogi posse negat Ep. lib. i. ep. 2. 

Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer; 
Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis. 

Be Art. Poet. 

Would he make us in love with the place 
where he wished to end his days with his friend ? 
he makes us long to go thither : 

Ille terrarum mihi prseter omnes 

Angulus ridet 

ibi tu calentem 
Debita sparges lacrima favillam 

Vatis amici. Qarm . lib. ii. ode 6. 



272 A LETTER TO THE 

Does he give us the character of Ulysses ? he 
represents him as above the reach of storms, and 
shipwreck, and the greatest calamities: 



aspera multa 



Pertulitj adversis rerum immersabilis undis. 

Ep. lib. i. ep. 2. 

Does he describe Rome invincible, even un« 
der her misfortunes ? hear him : 

Duris ut ilex tonsa bipennibus 
Nigra? feraci frond is in Algido^ 
Per damna, per cedes, ab ipso 
Ducit opes animumque ferro. 
Non hydra secto corpore firmior, &c. 

Carm. lib. iv. ode 4; 

Catullus, whom one cannot name without de- 
testing his obscene verses, hit the perfection of a 
tender simplicity : 

Odi, et amo: quare id faciam fortasse requiris. 
Nescio ; sed fieri sentio, et excrutior. Epig. 86. 

How much are the elaborate witty conceits 
of Ovid and Martial inferior to these negligent 
words, where the distracted heart alone speaks 
in a kind of despair? 

"What can be more simple, and more moving, 
than king Priam's being reduced, in his old age, 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 273 

to kiss the murdering hands of Achilles, who had 
destroyed his children?* He begs of him the 
great Hector's body, as the only alleviation of his 
misery. He must have spoiled all, if he had 
given the least ornament to his words : therefore 
they express nothing but his grief. He conjured 
him, by his own father, who sunk under old age, 
to have pity upon the most wretched of all fa- 
thers. 

Wit has the misfortune to weaken those strong 
passions which it pretends to adorn. According 
to Horace, a poem is not to be valued much for 
being bright and fine, unless it be likewise mov- 
ing, delightful, and, consequently, simple, natu- 
ral, and full of passion : 

Non satis est puichra esse poemata ; duicia sunto, 
Et quocunque volent, animuin auditoris agunto. 

Be Art, Poet. 

That which is only beautiful, I mean bright, 
has but half the beauty it ought to have. Truet 

* Iliad, lib. xxiv. 

t "Even in the arts, which are merely imitations of out- 
" ward grace and beauty, we not only confess a taste; but 
" make it a part of refined breeding to discover, amidst the 
" many false manners and ill styles, the true and natural 
" one, which represents the real Beauty and Venus of the 
M kind. It is the like moral Grace and Venus which, disco* 

T 



274 A LETTER TO THE 

beauty must express the passions well, in order to 
excite them : it should captivate the mind, and 
keep its attention steadily fixed on the true de- 
sign of a poem.* 

" vering itself in the turns of character, and the variety of 
" human affections, is copied by the writing artist. If he 
(l knows not this Venus, these Graces, nor was ever struck 
€t with the beauty, the decorum of this inward kind, he can 
ft never paint advantageously after the life ; nor in a feigned 
" subject, where he has full scope.'* 

Characteristics, vol. i. p. 336, 337". 

* u Let poets, or the men of harmony, deny, if they can, 
u this force of nature, or withstand this moral magic. They, 
u for their parts> carry a double portion of this charm about 
" with them : for, in the first place, the very passion that in- 
" spires them, is itself the love of numbers, decency, and pro- 
M portion ; and this, too, not in a narrow sense, or after a 
" selfish way, (for, who is there that composes for himself?) 
" but in a friendly social view ; for the pleasure and good of 
" others ; even down to posterity, and future ages. In the 
** next place ; it is evident in these performers, that their 
" chief theme and subject, that which raises their genius the 
f< most, and by which they so effectually move others, is 
" purely manners, and the moral part. For this is the effect, 
" and this the beauty of their art, in vocal measures of syl- 
iC lables and sounds, to express the harmony and numbers of 
" an inward kind ; and represent the beauties of a human 
a soul by proper foils and contrarieties, which serve as graces 
u in this limning, and render this music of the passions more 
H powerful and enchanting." Idem, ibid. 



TRENCH ACADEMY. 275 

VI. With regard to dramatic poetry, we 
must first distinguish between tragedy and come- 
dy. The former exhibits such great events as 
are apt to excite violent passions : the latter only 
describes the manners of men in a private condi- 
tion. 

As for tragedy, I must begin with declaring, 
that I wish our poets may never aim at improving 
any scene which represents such criminal passions 
as tend to inflame the spectators. I observed be- 
fore, that Plato, and other wise legislators among 
the heathens, excluded from their well-regulated 
societies, all such fables, and musical instruments, 
as might unman the people, by inclining them to 
sensuality. How much severity, then, ought 
Christian nations to shew against all contagious 
spectacles ! So far am I from desiring to have 
such entertainments improved, that it gives me a 
sensible pleasure to observe, that among us they 
are very low and imperfect. Our poets have 
made them as luscious and insipid as romances. 
The lover talks of nothing but flames, chains, and 
torments : he is for dying in perfect health. A 
very homely lady is called a sun, or an Aurora at 
least : her eyes are two stars. Every expression 
is extravagant ; and there is nothing which disco- 
vers a natural passion. It is so much the better : 
the weakness of the poison lessens the danger. 

t2 



276 A LETTER TO THE 

But, methinks, that$ according to the philosophi- 
cal notions of antiquity, there might be a wonder- 
ful force given to tragedy, without any mixture 
of that fickle extravagant love, which produces so 
many pernicious effects* 

Among the Greeks, tragedy did not in the 
least depend on wanton love. The Oedipus of 
Sophocles, for instance, has not the least touch of 
that passion, which was quite foreign to his sub- 
ject. The other tragedies of that great poet are 
composed in the same manner. M. Corneille, in 
his Oedipus, has only weakened his action, made 
it double, and divided the spectator's attention, 
by the episode of Theseus' insipid passion for 
Dirce. M. Racine fell into the same inconve- 
nience in his Phcedra. He has made a double 
action, by joining to the distracted Phoedra, Hip- 
politus sighing, contrary to his true character. 
He should have shewn Phcedra quite alone in her 
rage. The action would then have been single, 
short, lively ^ and vehement. But our two tragic 
poets, who, in other respects, deserve the highest, 
praises, were carried away with the stream, and 
fell in with the romantic taste which prevailed. 
The wit then in fashion introduced love in every 
piece. They thought it impossible to entertain 
an audience agreeably for two hours, without the 
help of some amorous intrigue. People thought 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 277 

it modish to be impatient at the noblest and most 
affecting scenes, unless some whining hero came 
in to interrupt it. His very sighs must be set off 
with quibbles, and his despair be expressed in a 
kind of epigram. So far doth the desire of plea- 
sing the vulgar taste constrain our greatest poets 
to transgress the rules of decorum. Hence came 
this fantastic sort of passion : 

Thou cruel thirst of fame, whose noble rage 
Drives me to death, to give my mem'ry life ; 
Stop but a moment thy impetuous course ; 
And let me still, before I breathe my last, 
This wretched day, give one more sigh to love.* 

The hero dared not die of grief, without a quibble, 
or turn of wit, at expiring. 

* Impi toy able soif de gloire, 

Dont Faveugle et noble transport 
Me fait preclpiter ma mort, 
Pour faire vivre ma memoire ; 
Arrete, pour quelques momens, 
Les impetueux sentimens 
De cette inexorable envie; 
Et souffre, qu'en ce triste jour, 
Avant que de donner ma vie, 
Je donne un soupir a l'amour. 

Racine. 



278 A LETTER TO THE 

Hence, too, comes this swelling florid despair; 

A fatal and an unexpected blow 
Has struck me to the bottom of the heart : 
Wretched avenger of a too just quarrel ! 
And wretched object of unjust revenge.* 

Never did real grief speak in such a pompous a£» 
fected strain. 

I think it would be proper to rid tragedy of 
that senseless fustian, which has not the least air 
of probability. For example, the following lines 
have something in them very extravagant : 

Impatient wishes of a brave revenge, 
"Who owe your being to a father's death ; 
Impetuous children of my just resentment, 
Blindly embraced by my misguided grief; 
Ye rule my soul with a too absolute sway s 
Let me, at least, enjoy one moment's ease 
In this my anxious state, that I may weigh 
Both what I hazard, and what I pursue.f 

M. Boileau observed, in these verses, a genealogy 
of impatient, wishes of a brave revenge ; which 

* Perce* jusques au fonds du cceur 

D'une atteinte imprevue aussi bien que mortelle; 
Miserable vengeur d'une juste querelle ! 
Et malheureux objet d'une injuste rigueur. 

f Impatiens desirs d'une illustre vengeance, 
A qui la inort d'une pere a donne la naissance ; 



FRENCH ACADEMY. £79 

were the impetuous children of a just resentment ; 
and were embraced by a misguided grief. The 
chief persons in a tragedy, who speak with pas- 
sion, ought to express it in a noble, lively man- 
ner : but the passions always speak naturally, and 
without such affected turns. People in affliction 
would not desire to be condoled by their friends 
in such pompous, affected language. 

M. Racine was not free from this defect, which 
custom had made almost necessary. Nothing can 
be less natural than the account of Hippolitus' 
death at the end of the tragedy of Phaedra ; 
which otherwise has great beauties in it. Thera- 
menes, who comes to acquaint Theseus of his son's 
fatal death, should only have told it in two words, 
and hardly have had strength to pronounce them 
distinctly. He should have said, ?* Hippolitus 

" is dead- -A monster, which the angry gods 

" sent from the bottom q{ the sea, devoured 
" him 1 saw it." Could a man so concern- 
ed, frightened, breathless, amuse himself in mak- 

Enfans impetueux de mon ressentiment, 

Que ma douleur seduite embrasse aveuglement; 

Yous regnez sur mon ame avec trop d'empire; 

Pour les moins, souffrez un moment que je respire, 

Et que je considere, en Fetal ou je suis, 

Et ce que je hasarde, et ce que je poursuis. 

CORNEILLE. 



S80 A LETTER TO THE 

ing a pompous, florid description of the sea- 
moaster ? 

His melancholy look, and drooping head, 
Seem'd to express his sad, dejected thoughts : 

It mov'd the earth, infected all the air; 

The wave that brought it started back with dread.* 

Sophocles was far from this misplaced ele- 
gance, which has not the least show of probabi- 
lity in it. He makes Oedipus utter broken words, 
which express nothing but sorrow : &, &; **, «!; 
<pv, (pv. O ! O ! ah ! ah ! alas ! alas ! This can- 
not be called speaking ; but rather groaning, or 
crying. " Alas! alas!" says he,t " the truth 

* L'oeil morne maintenant, et la tete baissee, 
Sembloient se conformer a sa triste pensee : 

La terre s'en emeut, Tair en est infecte ; 
Le flot qui l'apporta, recule epouvante. 

Racine. 

\a 9 ia roc ttccvi civ i$i)toi capv}, 

£1 (pu<; 9 TE^BvrctTov ai ^^oa-QM^/cufJH vvv. 

At, as, ai, al» 

(pv, (p'v, ovtocv^ lyai' ttoT ycip 

(pegof/.cu rXupuv ; ttoL po) (pQoyyct, 

cia7r£T0Tcu (pogccbvv ; 

$o aotliAw, Xv i£,Y}hi3 ; 

0* fJLOl, 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 281 

cc now appears too plainly. O light ! this is the 

a last time I shall behold thee. Alas ! alas ! 

u wretched man ! where am I ? VY r hence comes 
u it that my voice so suddenly fails me ? O for- 

ic tune ! whither art thou fled ? Unhappy, 

cc wretched man that I am ! I feel a raging an- 
" guish whilst I think of my misfortunes. — — O 
" friends ! what can I now see, or love, or en- 
iC tertain, or hear, with comfort ? O friends ! 

et yoi ycu\ OLVrJiq oiyxi eipsov y ccya. 

XSVTfOV T£ TUJV o'lfMyCty XCU yvnyfi XOOlCiJV — 

Ti aivor syo) ^XsttIov vj 

Ir gf ccxoveiv rjoovct, (piXoi \ 

air ay si cj (piXoi, rov oasvpov ysyotv, 

tov HCcroc^ocTorocrov, £Tt <5s yz xoci 

BsoTq SxfigOTOlTQV @P0Tk)V 

Oaoiv o<riq qv oq ocypiocq VTSoaq 

tTnTTooiocq savcjsv y utto re (pov8 

'I'ppvro xccvsccoasv, &$lv elq ^apiy 

'EQCx.co'Ojy'' tots ycc^ av hocvuv 

&x. fjv (p'iAQio-tv &y syo) tqctvv y a%oq, 

kjvk&v irccr^oq y ocv cpovsvq 

f)\$ov, yos pvy(pi<&> 

@£OTo7q SKAfjVYjV U)V s(pvv ocito, 

tvv os #0?u<§^ yiv eiy, ctvocriov bs irouq 
iyoyei/Yjq a &,($ m avr^ y sfvv ruXaq. 

Sop hoc. Oedip. 



282 A LETTER TO THE 

' immediately forsake a wretch, an execrable 

6 wretch! abhorred of gods and men.- Cursed 

' be the man thai unloosed my fetters, and saved 
c my life, in the desart where I was exposed ! 
6 He did me no real kindness. I 'might then 
6 have died with less sorrow both to myself and 
6 to my friends — I should neither have become 
6 my father's murderer, nor my mother's hus- 
6 band. Now, I am reduced to the greatest 
c misery. I have polluted my own parents ! I 
i have had children by her who brought me into 
' the world !" 

Thus it is that nature speaks, when oppressed 
with grief: nothing can be more remote from the 
sparkling expressions of a wit. Sophocles like- 
wise makes Hercules and Philoctetes express their 
sorrow in the same lively artless manner. 

M. Racine, who had carefully studied the 
great models of antiquity, had formed the plan of 
a French tragedy of Oedipus according to the 
manner of Sophocles, and the true Greek simpli- 
city, without mixing any impertinent intrigue of 
love in it. Such a piece might have been very 
curious, lively, vehement, and affecting. It would 
not, indeed, be applauded; but it would move an 
audience, and make them weep : it would keep 
them continually attentive : it would inspire them 
with the love of virtue, and a detestation of vice : 



FRENCH ACADEMY. §83 

it would serve to promote the observance of the 
best laws. Persons of the strictest piety could not 
be offended at it. Nothing need be retrenched 
from it, but those false ornaments which are con- 
trary to all rules. 

Our rigorous rules of versification often oblige 
the best tragic poets to fill their verses with use- 
less epithets, for the sake of rhyme : nay, to 
one good line, they sometimes add another silly 
one, which spoils it. For instance ; 1 am charmed 
when I read these words in Corneille's Horatii, 



-he might die : 



but I cannot bear the next line, which is brought 
only for the rhyme ; 

Or gain, through brave despair, the victory. 

The excessive circumlocutions in our verses have 
nothing natural in them. They do not represent 
men talking together in a serious, noble, vehement 
manner. The spectator loses the greatest pleasure 
of the entertainment, when it has not this air of 
probability. I confess the ancients allowed of a 
lofty * style in tragedy ; 

An tragica desaevit, et ampullatur in arte. — Hor. Epist. 

* " Now, according to this natural growth of arts, peculiar 
** to Greece, it would necessarily happen, that at the beginning, 



281 A LETTER TO THE 

But still it ought to be a true imitation of nature. 
It may be allowed to paint in a noble, beautiful 
manner : but on all occasions men ought to speak 
in an easy natural way. A hero must appear most 
ridiculous, if, in the greatest actions of his life, he 
does not speak, not only with a noble force, but 
such an easy simplicity as is directly opposite to 
bombast : 

Projecit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba. 

Hor. Art. Poet. 

It is enough that the poet makes Agamemnon talk 
haughtily ; Achilles in anger ; Ulysses with wis- 

" when the force of language came to be first proved ; when the 
" admiring world made their first judgment, and essayed 
w their taste in the elegancies of this sort ; the lofty, the sub- 
a lime, the astonishing, and amazing, would be the most in 
" fashion, and preferred. Metaphorical speech, multiplicity 
" of figures, and high-sounding words, would naturally prevail. 

" But the taste of Greece was now polishing. A better 

16 judgment was soon formed, when a Demosthenes was heard, 
ei and had found success. The people themselves — came now 
u to reform their comedy and familiar manner, after tragedy 
u and the higher style had been brought to perfection under 
" the last hand of an Euripides. And now, in all the prin- 
li cipal works of ingenuity and art, simplicity and nature be- 
" gan chiefly to be sought : and this was the taste which lasted 
" through so many ages, till the ruin of all things under an 
u universal monarchy." — Charact. vol. iii. page 140, 141, 



FRENCH ACADEMY. gg5 

dom ; and Medea in fary. But the pompous ex- 
travagant way of ranting spoils every thing. The 
greater those characters are, and the stronger 
those passions which the poet represents, the more 
necessary it is to draw them with a noble and ve- 
hement simplicity.* 

Methinks our poets have made the Romans 
talk in too lofty a strain. For, though they 
thought nobly, they talked with moderation. 
They were indeed a kingly people : 

— populum late regem, 

Virg. JEneid. lib. i f 

but still they were as mild in their intercourse and 
expressions, as they were vigorous in conquering 
those nations, which were jealous of their power : 

Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos. 

JEneid. lib. vi. 

* " In poetry, and studied prose, the astonishing part, or 
" what commonly passes for sublime, is formed by the variety 
" of figures, the multiplicity of metaphors, and by quitting, as 
" much as possible, the natural and easy way of expression, 
*' for that which is most unlike to humanity, or ordinary use. 
" This the prince of critics assures us had been the manner 
" of the earliest poets before the age of Homer; or till such 
" time as this father-poet came into repute, who deposed that 
" spurious race, and gave rise to a legitimate and genuine kind. 
" He retained only what was decent of the figurative or meta- 



286 A LETTER TO THE 

Horace has given the same character of them 
in other words : 

Tmperet bellante prior, jacentem 

Lenis in hostem. Carm. SecuL 

The stateliness with which Augustus is made 
to speak in the tragedy of Cinna, is scarce con- 
sistent witli that modest simplicity which Sueton 
ascribes to him, in all (he particulars of his con- 
duct. He still preserved In Rome so great an ap- 
pearance of the ancient liberty of the republic, that 
he would not suffer the people to call him lord. 
" Both by his aspect, and his gesture," says 
Sueton,* " he discouraged the unmanly flatteries 

u phoric style, introduced the natural and simple, and turned 
" his thoughts toward the real beauty of composition, the 
u unity of design, the truth of characters, and the just imita- 
" tion of nature in each particular." 

Charact. vol. i. page 242, 243. 

* Mann, vultuque indecoras adulationes repressit, ct in 
sequent! die gravissimo corripuit edicto ; dominumque se 
posthac appellari ne a liheris, aut nepotibus, vel serio, ve] 
joco passus est. — In consulatu pedibus fere, extra consulatum 
sa?pe adoperta sella per publicum incessit. Promiscuis salu- 
tationibus admittebat et plebem. — Quoties magistratuum co- 
mitiis interesset, tribus cum candidatis suis circuibat, supjj+i- 
cabatque more solemn i. Ferebat et ipse suffragiuni in tribu, 
ut unus e populo. — Filiam et neptes ita institnit, ut etiam la- 
nificio assuefaceret. — Habitavit in aedibus modicis Ilortensi- 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 287 

" which were addressed to him ; and the next day 
u he suppressed them by a most severe edict. 
" Nor would he ever afterwards suffer himself to 
" be called lord, not even by his children, and 
u his other relations, either in jest, or in earnest. 
" — During his consulship he generally walked 
iQ abroad ; and at other times he was often carried 
" in a close chair. He allowed the common 
" people, as well as others, to converse with him. 
it — When he assisted at the election of magis- 
iC trates, he went round the tribes with his candi- 
€C dates, and solicited for them in the usual form : 
a and he himself voted in his tribe, as one of the 
" people. — He so educated his daughter and 
grand-daughters, that they were accustomed 
a even to spinning of wool. — He dwelt in the ordi- 
u nary Hortensian buildings, which are not con- 
a spicuous either for spaciousness or ornament ; 
" the porticos being but short — and not adorned 



cc 



anis neque laxitate, neque cultu conspicuis ; ut in quibus pos- 
ticus breves essent ; — et sine marmore ullo, aut insigni pavi- 
mento conspicuae : ac per annos amplius XL. eodem cubiculo 
hieme ec estate mansit. — Instrument ejus et suppellectilis 
parsimonia apparet etiarn nunc residuis lectis atque mensis 
quorum pleraque vix private elegantia? sint. — Coenam tribus 
ferculis, aut cum abundantissime, senis praebebat; ut non ni- 
mio sumptu, ita summa comitate. — Vestenon temerealia quam 
domestica usus est ab uxore — confecta. — Cibi minimi erat at- 
que vulgaris fere. Suet. Vita Aug. 



ggg A LETTER TO THE 

" with marble or costly pavement. He lodged in 
" the same chamber both in summer and winter, 
" for upwards of forty years. — The plainness of his 
u furniture appears from some of his beds and 
" tables, still remaining; most of which are 
H scarce commonly handsome. — He supped on 
u three dishes ; or, on extraordinary occasions, 
" upon six at most : and then his entertainments 
" were not sumptuous, but always frank. — He sel- 
u dom wore any other clothes than were manu- 
u factured by his wife. — His diet was sparing, and 
" generally plain — " 

Pomp and bombast are more suitable to the 
pride of a Persian monarch, than to that civility 
which was peculiar to the Romans* Notwith- 
standing the severity of Tiberius, and the servile 
flattery into which they fell in his days, and under 
his successors ; Pliny tells us, that Trajan lived still 
like a good sociable citizen, with an amiable fami- 
liarity. This emperor's answers are short, exact, 
and void of all pomp. The basso relievo of his 
ancient pillar at Rome represents him always in. 
the most modest posture, even when he is at the 
head of his legions. Every thing we read in Livy, 
Plutarch, Tully, or Sueton, represents the Romans 
as a people who were haughty in their sentiments ; 
but very plain, natural, and modest, in their lan- 
guage. They did not in the least resemble the 



FRENCH ACADEMY, 289 

stiff blustering heroes in our romances. A great 
man does not declaim like an actor. In conversa- 
tion he speaks in strong and proper terms : he sRys 
nothing mean, nor any thing which is pompous and 
affected : 

Ne, quicunque deus, quicunque adhibebltur heros, 
Regali conspectus in auro nnper et ostro, 
Migret in obscnras humili sermone tabernas; 
Aut, duin vitat Lumuni, nubes et mania captet. 

Hon. Art. Poet. 

The nobleness or the tragic style should not 
hinder even heroes from speaking with simplicity, 
according to the nature of the things they talk of. 

Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri. 

VII. Comedy is inferior to tragedy, and de- 
scribes the manners of men in a private condition ; 
therefore it requires a more familiar strain. But 
some men shew a haughty temper in the lowest 
circumstances, as well as i 1 the highest. 

Iratusque Chreines tumido delitigat ore. 

Hor. Art. Poet. 

I confess that I think the strokes of pleasnntry 
in Aristophanes are very low ; and resemble the 
modern farce, which is purposely designed to 
amuse and gratify the mob. What can be more 

v 



290 A LETTER TO THE 

ridiculous than his description of a Persian king, 
travelling with forty thousand men, to a golden 
mountain, merely to satisfy the infirmities of na- 
ture ? 

There is a great respect due to antiquity : but 
the ancients themselves allow us to judge freely of 
their works. Horace teaches me how to judge of 
Plautus : 

At nostri proavi Plautinos et numeros, et 
Laudavere sales ; nimium patienter utrumque, 
Ne dicam stulte, mirati ; si modo ego, et vos 
Scimus inuibanum lepido seponere dicto.— — 

Hor. Art. Poet. 

Could it be the low humour of Plautus that 
Caesar meant by the vis comica, which he wished 
Terence to have had ? Menander had given this 
latter poet a just and delicate taste. Scipio and 
Laelius, Terence's friends, nicely distinguished in 
his favour, between that humour which Horace 
calls lepidurriy and what is inurbanum. That co- 
mic poet has an inimitable simplicity, which 
charms and moves us by the bare recital of a very 
common incident. 

Sic cogitabam ; hie parvae consuetudinis 
Causa, mortem hujus tarn fert familiariter: 
Quid si amasset ? Quid mihi hie faciet patri ? — 
Effertur. Imus, &c. Ter. Andr. act i. scene 1. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 291 

Nothing can be more exactly managed ; so as 
not to over-do any character. What follows is 
tender : 

; a t at, hoc illud est, 



Hinc illae lacrymae ; hsec ilia est misericordia. 

Ter. Andr, act i. scene 1. 

Here is another passage in which passion alone 
speaks : 

Memor essem ? O Mysis, Mysis, etiam nunc mihi 

Scripta ilia dicta sunt in animo, Chrysidis 

De Glycerio. Jam ferme moriens ma vocat; 

Accessi : vos semotse : nos soli : incipit : 

Mi Pamphile, hujus formam atque aetatem vides; 

Quod ego te per hanc dextram oro ? et ingenium tuuity , 

Per tuum fidem, perque hujus solitudinem 

Te obtestor — l ■ 

Te isti virum do. amicum, tutorem, patrem * 

Hanc mi in manum dat : mors continuo ipsam occupat. 

Accepi, acceptam servabo. Ibid, scene 5. 

Whatever wit could add to these simple mov- 
ing expressions, would only weaken them. But 
here are some others which rise into real trans- 
port. 

Neque Virgo est usquam, neque ego, qui illam e conspects 

amisi meo. 
Ubi quaeram ? ubi investigem ? quern perconter ? quam in- 

sistam viam ? 
Incertus sum : una haec spes est : ubi, ubi est diu celari won 

potest. Ter. Eun. act ii. scene 3. 

v2 



292 A LETTER TO THE 

Passion speaks here again in the same lively 
manner : 



, ,. ego-ne quid velim ? 

Cum milite isto praesens, absens ut sies. — 

Ter. Eun, act i, scene 2. 

Can one wish for more simple or more lively 
scenes ? 

It must be owned (hat Moliere is a great co- 
mic poet. I will even venture to say, that he has 
entered farther into some particular characters 
than Terence, and has handled a greater variety 
of subjects. With very masterly touches, he lias 
drawn and exposed almost every thing which is 
disorderly and ridiculous. Terence only de- 
scribes covetous and suspicious fathers ; lavish 
profligate youths ; impudent greedy courtezans ; 
mean fawning parasites ; and cheating wicked 
slaves. No doubt these characters deserved to be 
handled, agreeably to the manners of the Greeks 
and Romans. Besides, we have but six plays of 
this great author. But Moliere has opened an 
unbeaten tract. I own again^ that he is a fine 
writer. But may I not speak of his faults with 
freedom ? He oftentimes expresses a good thought 
very ill. He uses strained and unnatural expres- 
sions. Terence, with the most elegant simplicity, 
says, in four words, what our poet expresses in a 
variety of metaphors, which are little better than 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 293 

fustian. I like his prose much better than his po- 
etry. For instance, the miser has fewer faults 
than his plays which are in verse. It is true, the 
French versification cramped his thoughts. We 
find, likewise, that he has succeeded better in the 
poetry of his Amphitryon, where he took the li- 
berty to make irregular verses, than in his other 
plays. But, in general, he does not seem to me, 
even in his prose, to speak with simplicity enough 
to express ail the passions. Besides, he has 
strained some characters. By this freedom he de- 
signed to please the pit ; to hit the taste of the 
meanest spectators ; and to render the ridicule of 
such characters the more sensible. But though a 
poet ought to describe the highest degree of every 
passion by its most distinguishing marks, the better 
to shew its deformity and extravagance ; yet there 
is no occasion to constrain nature, and to go beyond 
all probability. Thus, notwithstanding the ex- 
ample of Plautus, who says, cedo tertiam^ I assert, 
against Moliere, that a miser in his right wits, will 
never desire to look into the third hand of a man 
whom he suspects of having robbed him. 

Another fault of Moliere, (which some witty 
people forgive, though I cannot pardon it,) is, 
that he lias given vice an agreeable turn, and a 
shocking ridiculous austerity to virtue. I know 
Ills admirers will pretend that he has done justice 



294 A LETTER TO THE 

and honour to true probity ; and only exposed 
morose virtue, and a detestable hypocrisy. But, 
•without entering into a long dispute on this point, 
I maintain, that Plato, and the other ancient le- 
gislators, would never have suffered such jesting 
upon virtuous characters in their republics. 

In fine, I cannot help thinking, with M. Boi- 
leau, that Moliere, who describes the manners of 
his country with so much beauty and force, falls 
too low when he imitates the low humour of the 
Italian comedies. 

In Scapin's sack I lose the misanthrope.* 

VIII. It were to be wished, methinks, for the 
honour of the Academy, that they would procure 
us a treatise on history. There are but few histo- 
rians free from gross faults. And yet history is 
of great importance. + It points out great ex- 
amples to us : it makes the vices of bad men serve 
for instruction to the good : it disentangles the 
origin of nations; and shews by what means 

* Dans ce sac ridicule, ou Scapin s'enveioppe, 
Je ne reconnois plus Fauteur du misanthrope. 

Boil. Art l J oetiquc, chant iii. . 

f Historia vero testis temporum, lux veritatis, vita me- 
moriae, magistra vita. 1 , nuncia vetustatis 

' Cic. dt Oral. lib. ii. sect. 9. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 295 

people passed from one form of government to 
another. 

A good historian is not partial * to any age or 
nation. Though he loves his country, he never 
flatters it. A French historian should shew him- 
self neutral between England and France. He 
ought to praise Talbot as freely as G uesclin ; and 
do as much justice to the Prince of Wales's war- 
like genius, as to the wisdom of Charles V. He 
equally avoids panegyrick and satire : and deserves 
credit no farther than he confines himself to relate 
both what is good, and what is bad, without flat- 
tery or malice. He omits no incident which 
serves to describe the chief persons he speaks of, 
and to discover the true causes of events. But he 
avoids all those curious disquisitions, which tend 
only to display the author's knowledge. He shews 
his critical skill only in relating those facts as 
doubtful, which really are so ; and in leaving them 
to the reader's judgment, after giving him the best 
information he could. He who has rather a talent 
for learning and criticism, than a genius for history, 
will not bate his reader the least date, or any in- 

* Nam quis nescit, primam esse historic le^em, ne quid 
falsi dicere audeat ? deinde, ne quid veri non audeat ? neque 
suspicio gratia? sit in scribendo ? neque simultatis ? 

Cxc. de Orat. lib. ii. sect. 15. 



296 A LETTER TO THE 

cident, however dry and impertinent; not even the 
most useless circumstance. He follows his own 
humour, without regarding the public taste. He 
would have every body as fond as he is of those 
trifles, which employ his insatiable curiosity. On 
the contrary, a cautions discreet historian drops all 
insignificant facts, which give the reader no light 
into any important point. By leaving out these 
useless incidents, you take nothing from the his- 
tory ; for they only interrupt and lengthen it, and 
make it a collection of historical scraps, without 
any thread of lively narration. Such a scrupulous 
exactness should be left to compilers. The main 
point is to give the reader an easy view of import- 
ant things ; to shew him their connexion ; and to 
lead him on speedily to the unravelling of the 
whole. Herein history ought somewhat to re- 
semble an epic poem : 

Semper ad eventum festinat; et in medias res 
Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit : et quae 
Desperat tractata nitescere posse, relinquit. 

Hon. Art. Poet. 

There are many general facts that only inform 
us of barren dates, and of names which are not 
worHi remembering. I am not acquainted with 
a man's character, merely by knowing his name. 
I would rather read such a historian as Froissard, 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 297 

who is not very exact and judicious, and mistakes 
names, but gives a plain and natural account of 
things, than those historians who tell me, that 
Charlemagne held his parliament at Ingelheim, 
that then he went to fight the Saxons, and re- 
turned to Aix-la-Chapelle. This teaches me no- 
thing that is useful. Facts, related without cir- 
cumstances, are like a body stripped of its flesh : 
they make only the skeleton of a history. 

The chief perfection of a history consists in 
the order and disposal of its parts. To attain to 
this beautiful order, the historian must have one 
clear and comprehensive view of his whole sub- 
ject. He should try to place it in various lights, 
till he find out its truest point of view. He must 
shew its unity ; and draw r , as it were, from one 
source, all the chief events which depend upon 
it. By this method he instructs his readers in the 
most useful things, and gives them the pleasure 
of foreseeing the sequel of events. He engages 
their attention : he sets before their eyes a scheme 
of the most important affairs, in every period of 
time : he points out to them what is most likely 
to result from it : he makes them argue, without 
arguing himself: he spares them many repeti- 
tions : he never lets them grow weary. The con- 
nexion he gives to various facts makes the whole 
narration be easily remembered. I must here 



298 A LETTER TO THE 

again apply to history, a passage of Horace which 
relates to an epic poem : 

Ordinis haec virtus erit, et Venus, aut ego fallor ; 
Ut jam nunc dicat, jam nunc debentia dici 
Pleraque differat, et praesens in tempus omittat. 

De Art. Poet. 

A dry heavy annalist knows no other order 
but that of chronology. He repeats a fact every 
time that he has occasion to mention any thing 
which depends on it. He dares neither set for- 
ward, nor postpone, any particular narration, 
But a historian who has a true genius, out of 
twenty places, chooses that in which a fact may 
be most commodiously set, so as to give light to 
all the rest. Oftentimes a fact, mentioned long 
before the order of time when it happened, clears 
up all the train of events which paved the way to 
it. Sometimes another incident will appear in its 
full light, by being postponed : for then it is in- 
troduced more appositely, as the occasion of other 
events. Cicero compares this just order to the 
care which a person of a good taste takes to 
place* fine pictures in an advantageous light. 
Thus a judicious reader has the pleasure of con- 

♦ Videtur tamquam tabulas bene pictas collocare in bono 
lumine. Cic. de cturia Oral. sect. 7j. 



TRENCH ACADEMY. 299 

tinually foreseeing somewhat of the sequel, with- 
out confusion ; he observes always one event 
rising out of another ; and longs to see the wind- 
ing up of the whole; which is artfully concealed 
from him, to hasten him on to it with the greater 
impatience. When he has perused the whole 
history, he looks back, like a curious traveller, 
who, having got to the top of a mountain, ob- 
serves all around him, and takes a delight in 
viewing, from this situation, the way he came, 
and all the pleasant places through which he 
passed. 

A well-chosen circumstance, a saying well 
related, or a particularity of behaviour, which 
points out a man's genius or humour, is a delicate 
masterly stroke in history ; for it paints the person 
to the life, and sets him before your eyes. Plu- 
tarch and Sueton have done this to perfection. 
We observe the same with pleasure in cardinal 
d'Ossat. When you read his history, you fancy- 
that you see Clement the Eighth speaking to him, 
sometimes with openness of heart, and sometimes 
with great reserve. 

A historian ought to retrench many superflu- 
ous epithets, and other such ornaments of dis- 
course. This will make his history more concise, 
more lively, more simple, and more agreeable. 
In his narration he ought to interweave the most 



300 A LETTER TO THE 

solid notions of virtue, without moralizing. He 
should avoid sententious remarks with the utmost 
care. His history will be sufficiently adorned, if 
lie relate things in a just order, and a clear, pro- 
per, concise, noble style. Cicero says, " There 
u is nothing more agreeable in history than an 
" easy noble conciseness."* Indeed it is a dis- 
advantage to history to be embellished. Nothing 
could be more worthy of Tully than this remark 
ttpon Cassar's Commentaries: u We have an ex- 
i' cellent account of his transactions in some com- 
iC mentaries he wrote, which are naked, correct, 
*' and beautiful ; being stripped of all the orna- 
u incuts of style. But while he seemed only io 
< ( furnish others with materials for writing a his- 
<; tory, perhaps he gratified some injudicious 
" persons, who might endeavour to embellish 
" them : but he discouraged all wise men from 
4; writing on the same subject. "i A wit despises 
a naked history, as imperfect : he would have it 

* Nihil est in historic pura et illustri brevitate dulcius. 

])c claris Oral. sect. 75. 

f Commentaries quosdam scripsit rerum suarum, valde 
quidem probandos. Mudi enim sunt, recti, et venusti, oniui 
ornatu orationis tanquam veste detracts. Sed duni voluit 
alios habere parata unde sumerent, qui vellent scribere histo- 
rian), iiicptis gratum fortasse fecit, qui volant ilia calamistris 
inurere; sanus quidem homines a scribeudo deUnuit. — Ibid* 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 301 

clothed, trimmed up, and adorned with embroid- 
ery. The want of these ornaments is what weak 
people reckon a fault : but a judicious person, 
who has a delicate taste, despairs of being able to 
add any real beauty to this noble, majestic sim- 
plicity. 

The most necessary and most uncommon ac- 
complishment in a historian, is to know exactly 
the form of government, in every age, and the 
successive manners of the nation, whose history 
he writes. A painter who knows not what the 
Italians call il costume , can draw nothing exactly. 
The painters of the school of Lombardy have 
failed in this particular; though, in other re- 
spects, they have represented nature to the life. 
They have drawn the Jewish high-priest like a 
pope ; and the ancient Greeks like the people of 
Lombardy. Nothing could be more false, or 
more shocking, than to paint the French in 
Henry the Second's time, with periwigs and 
cravats ; or to draw those in the present age with 
beards and ruffs. The manners of each nation are 
very different from those of other people : and 
the same nation often changes its own customs. 
During the infancy of Cyrus, the Persian manners 
were as simple as those of the Medes were effemi* 
nate and luxurious : but afterwards the Persians 
fell into the same softness and vanity. A histo- 



30§ A LETTER TO THE 

rian would shew himself grossly ignorant, if he 
represented the table of Curius or Fabricius like 
that of Apicius or Lucullus. We should laugh 
at a historian who should speak of the magnifi- 
cence of Numa's court, or of the Lacedemonian 
kings. He ought to describe the powerful and 
happy poverty of the ancient Romans : 



— — parvoque po ten tern. 

Virg. JEneid, lib. vi. 

He ought not to forget how simple and plain the 
Greeks were in Alexander's time, in comparison 
of the Asiatics ; as appears from Carideraus'* 
speech to Darius. The very plain house in 
which Augustus lived forty years, must not be 
represented like the golden palace which Nero 
built soon after. 

Roma domus flet: VeTos migrate Quintet 
Si non et Ve'ios occupat ista domus. 

Our own nation must not be described as if it 
had been always the same ; for it has changed 
continually. A historian who should draw Clovis 
amidst a polite, genteel, magnificent court, would 
be little the better for relating particular fact* 

* Quintus Curtius. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 303 

aright, seeing he would be mistaken in the chief 
point, concerning the manners of the whole na- 
tion. The Franks were then only a wild wander- 
ing band, almost without laws and order, who 
lived only by inroads and rapine. The Gauls, 
whom the Romans civilized, must not be con- 
founded with the Franks. Some rays of dawning 
politeness should appear in the days of Charle- 
magne, and immediately vanish again. The 
sudden fall of his family plunged Europe into a 
frightful state of ignorance. S. Louis was a pro- 
digy of virtue and prudence in such a degenerate 
age. We are scarce got out of that tedious night. 
The revival of literature and arts began in Italy; 
and they came into France very late. An affecta- 
tion of wit, and false delicacy, hindered their 
progress. 

The changes which happen in the form of a 
nation's government ought to be carefully ob- 
served by a historian. For instance ; in France 
we had at first Salique lands, distinguished from 
other estates, and allotted to the military part of 
the nation. He ought never to confound the be- 
neficiary earldoms of Charlemagne's time, which 
were only personal offices, with the hereditary 
earldoms, which, under his successors, became 
settlements in families. He should distinguish 
the parliaments founded by the second royal lino, 



301 A LETTER TO THE 

(which were assemblies of the nation,) from the 
several parliaments which the kings of the third 
line established in the distinct provinces of the 
kingdom , for determining private law-suits. He 
ou^ht to know the origin of fiefs ; the service of 
feudatories : the enfranchisement of bondmen ; 
the increase of corporations ; the erection of the 
third state ;* the introduction of clerks practi- 
tioners to be counsellors to the nobles, who were 
little acquainted with the laws ; and the establish* 
merit of troops in the king's pay, to prevent the 
incursions of the English, who had settled them- 
selves in the heart of the kingdom. The manners 
and state of the whole nation have changed in 
every age. Without going further back, the al- 
teration of our manners since Henry the Fourth is 
incredible. It is far more important to observe 
these changes of a whole nation, than barely to 
relate particular facts. 

If a judicious person should set himself to lay 
down rules for writing history, he might join ex- 
amples to precepts. He might give his judgment 
of the historians of all ages; and might observe, 
that a complete historian is, perhaps, more un- 
common than a great poet. 

Herodotus, who is called the father of history, 
relates things exactly well. There is a beauty in 



* Du tier* ctat. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. §05 

the very variety of his subjects. But his work is 
rather a collection of the various accounts of the 
different countries, than a history which has unity 
of parts and a true order. 

. Xenophon only wrote a journal of his retreat, 
with his ten thousand Grecians, from Paphlagonia. 
Every thing in it is distinct and exact, but uni- 
form. His Cyropaedia is rather a philosophical 
romance, as 'fully believed, than a true history. 
Polybius is well-skilled in politics, and the art 
of war; but he reasons too much, though he rea- 
sons justly. He exceeds the bounds of a mere his- 
torian. His work is a kind of political anatomy, 
lie unfolds every event, as contained in its cause ; 
and shewsj as it were, by mechanical laws, that 
such a people must necessarily overcome another 
people ; and that such a peace, made between 
Rome and Carthage, could not possibly last. 

Thucydides and Titus Li vius have many fine 
harangues ; but they seem to have been composed 
by themselves, and not to be real speeches. One 
can scarce believe that they copied them from the 
records of that time. Livy did not understand the 
military affairs of his age so well as Polybius. 

Sallust wrote with a peculiar beauty and noble- 
ness : but he enlarges too much in describing the 
manners and characters of persons in two very 
short histories. 



$66 A LETTEfc TO TllE 

Tacitus shews abundance of skill, and a tKo* 
rough knowledge of the most corrupted hearts : 
but he too much affects a mysterious conciseness. 
He is too full of poetical turns in his descriptions. 
He is too pieriet rating : he is too refined in his con- 
jectures. He ascribes that to the subtlest policy, 
which really arose from mistake, caprice, or un- 
accountable humour. The greatest events often 
flow from the meanest causes. It was weakness, 
custom, false shame, disgust, or the advice of a 
freed-man, which determined an affair ; whilst 
Tacitus endeavoured to find out the most refined 
policy in the emperor's councils. Most people 
are moderate and superficial in the pursuit of evil, 
as well as of good. Tiberius, one of the vilest men 
that ever lived, was more influenced by his fears, 
than by any settled scheme of acting. 

We read d'Avila with pleasure ; but he 
speaks as if he had been admitted into the most 
secret councils. One man could never have been 
entrusted by all the contending parties. Besides, 
every person must have some secret which he 
would not communicate to the historian. One can 
know but a part of the truth; and he, who pre-, 
tends to inform me of what I see he could not 
know, inclines me to suspect even those facts 
which he might know. 

Such a criticism upon ancient and modern his* 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 307 

.orians would be very useful, and very agreeable, 
without offending any living author. 

IX. Against what I have proposed, it will 
pobably be objected, that the Academy will never 
adopt these several treatises as its own, without 
first examining them. Now, it is not likely that 
an author, who has bestowed the utmost pains on 
a work, will submit it entirely to the correction of 
a numerous assembly, in which the opinions of the 
several members will, perhaps, be very different. 
Therefore it is not to be supposed that the Aca- 
demy will adopt such a work. 

My answer is short. I suppose that the Aca- 
demy will not adopt it, but only employ particular 
persons in such an undertaking. Each of these 
might consult the Academy at their assemblies* 
For example, the author of a rhetoric might pro- 
pose to them his doubts concerning eloquence. 
The members will give him their thoughts on this 
subject : and their opinions may happen to be di- 
vided. But the author might make what use of 
them he should judge proper, without constraining 
himself. 

The disputes which should arise in these as- 
semblies upon such questions might be recorded in 
a sort of journal^ which the secretary should com- 

x2 



308 A LETTER TO THE 

pose without partiality. This journal would con- 
tain short dissertations which might help to im- 
prove criticism, and a good taste. Such employ- 
ment would oblige the gentlemen of the Academy 
to attend its assemblies punctually. The reputa- 
tion and advantage of it would spread over all 
Europe. 

X. It is true, that the Academy would fre- 
quently happen to be divided upon these ques- 
tions. The esteem which some have for the an- 
cients, and others for the moderns, might hinder 
them from agreeing in their judgment. But I ap* 
prehend no ill effects from a contest so calm, so 
polite, and so moderate, as that would prove. For, 
in this case, every one might freely follow his own 
taste, and his own notions. Such an emulation 
tnight improve learning. May I presume here to 
offer my thoughts on the subject ? 

1. I begin with wishing that the moderns 
might surpass the ancients* I would rejoice to see 
in our age, and our nation, more vehement orators 
than Demosthenes, and sublimer poets than Ho- 
mer. The world, instead of losing, would certainly 
gain much by it. The ancients would not be less 
valuable than they have always been ; and the mo- 
derns would add a new ornament to human nature. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 209 

The ancients must still retain the glory of having 
begun, and shewn the way to others, and of fur- 
nishing them with the means to excel them- 
selves. 

2. It would be very foolish to judge of any 
work by its date. 

■ et, nisi quas terris semota suisque 



Temporibus defuncta videt, fastidit et odit. 

Hor. Ep. lib, ii. ep. 1. 

Si, quia Graiorum sunt antiquissima quagque 
Scripta vel optima : 

Scire velim, chartis pretium quotus arroget annus ? 

Qui redit in fastos, et virtutem aestimat annis ; 
Miraturque nihil, nisi quod Libitina sacravit. 

Si Veteres ita miratur laudatque poetas, 

Ut nihil anteferat, nihil illis comparet ; errat. 

Quod si tarn Graecis novitas invisa fuisset, 

Quam nobis ; quid nunc esset vetus ? aut quid haberet 

Quod legeret, tereretque viritim publicus usus ? 

If Virgil had not dared to tread in Homer's 
steps; if Horace had not hoped to come near 
Pindar ; what excellent works must we have lost ! 
Homer and Pindar themselves did not attain to this 
high perfection at one step. No doubt they had 
the advantage of other poets who had smoothed 
the w r ay for them, and whom i\iey at length ex- 



310 A LETTER TO THE 

celled. Why may not our modern poets have the 
same hope ? How much glory did Horace promise 
himself! 

Dicam insigne, recens, adhuc 

Indictum ore alio 

Carm. lib. hi. ode 25. 

Nil parvum, aut humili modo, 
Nil mortale loquar 



Exegi monumentum sere perennius. 

Carm. lib. iii. ode 30. 

Non omnis moriar ; multaque pars mei 
Vitabit Libitinam : usque ego postera 
Crescam laude recens : 



sume sqperbiam 

Quaesitam meritis, et mihi Delphica 
Lauro cinge volens, Melpomene, comam. 

Why may we not likewise allow Malherbe to 

say, 

Apollon a portes ouvertes ? 

Liv. iii. ode 11. 

3. I own that the emulation of the moderns 
would be dangerous, if it made them despise the 
ancients, and neglect to study them. The true 
■way to excel them, is to improve by every thing 
which is valuable in them ; and endeavour, ac- 
cording to their notions, to imitate beautiful na- 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 31 1 

ture more closely than they did. I should readily 
say to those authors of the present age, whom I 
esteem and honour most, 

vos exemplaria Grasca 



Noctuma versate manu, versate diurna. 

Hor, Art. Poet. 

If ever you should happen to excel the ancients, 
it is to themselves you must owe the glory of over- 
coming them. 

4. A prudent modest author ought to distrust 
himself, and the praises which he receives from 
his most valuable friends. Self-love will naturally 
bias him a little ; and friendship will incline them 
to express too great an admiration of his ta- 
lents, What must he do then, if some friend, 
being charmed with his writings, should say to 
him, 

Nescio quid majus nascitur? 

Propert. lib. ii. eleg. ult. 

He should not, for such a compliment, be less 
tempted to imitate the modesty of the great and 
wise Virgil ; who, when he was dying, would 
have burnt his iEneid, which has been the in- 
struction and delight of all ages. No one who 
lias a clear view of a great and perfect work, as 
tluit poet had, can flatter himself so far as to think 



312 A LETTER TO THE 

he has attained to it. Nothing comes entirely up 
to his idea, nor satisfies his delicacy. Whoever, 
therefore, has a notion of what is truly perfect, 
perceives at the same time that he has not equal- 
led it. And he, who fancies he has attained to it, 
has not such a distinct idea of it as he imagines. 
He must have a scanty genius, and a weak vain 
mind, who is entirely pleased with himself and 
his performances. The author, who is thus 
pleased with himself, is generally pleased alone. 

Quin sine rivali, teque, et tua solus amares. 

Hor. Art. Poet. 

Such an author may have some uncommon 
talents : but he must be master of more imagina- 
tion, than judgment and sound criticism. On the 
contrary, a poet, who would equal the ancients, 
must shew a judgment superior to the most lively 
and fruitful imagination. An author should be 
proof against all the praises which his friends can 
give him : he should often revise and correct 
what has been already applauded, and remember 
this rule : 



nonumque prematur in annum. 

IIor. Art. Poet. 



5. I am extremely glad to see any author 
who strives to out-do the ancients, though he 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 313 

should never be able even to equal them. The 
public ought to encourage him, and commend his 
endeavours : they should hope that he may still 
rise higher in his next attempt ; and they should 
admire whatever he has already done, which 
conies near the ancient models : 

— — — - fel iciter audet. 



I would have all the sons of Parnassus praise him: 

proxima Phcebi 



Vers ib us ille tacit. Vine Eel. vii. 

Pastores beclera crescentem ornate poetam. Ibid. 

An author is the more to be esteemed for 
shewing a diffidence of himself, in consulting 
others about any piece which he is still willing to 
correct. 

Imo baec, quae Varo necdum perfecta canebat. — Eel. ix. 

I admire an author who applies to himself this 
beautiful passage ; 

Nam neque adhuc Varo videor, nee dicere Cinna 
Digna : sed argutos inter strepere anser olorcs. — Ibid. 

Then I would have all parties unite to praise 
him: 

Utque viro Phoebi chorus assurrexerit omnis. — Eel. vi. 



314 A LETTER TO THE 

If such an author be still dissatisfied with himself, 
while the public is highly pleased with him; his 
taste and genius are far above the very work for 
which he is admired. 

(S. I am not afraid to say that the most excel- 
lent of the ancients have some faults. Human 
nature has never permitted any one to arrive at 
entire perfection. If I were obliged to judge of 
the ancients according to my own notions only, I 
should be very cautious in censuring them. They 
have this great advantage, that while we criticise 
their works, we walk, as it were, in the dark; 
because of our not having a thorough knowledge 
of their manners, their language, their taste, and 
their notions. If we had been their contempora- 
ries, perhaps we should have censured them more 
freely. But I speak of the ancients upon the au- 
thority of the ancients themselves. Horace, that 
penetrating critic, who was so much charmed 
with Homer, will voucli for me, when I venture 
to affirm, that this great poet, in his long work ? 
sometimes nodded a little : 

quandoque bonus dormitat Ilomerus. 



Verum ouere in longo fas est obrepere somnum. 

jDc Art. Poet. 

Shall we then, through a manifest preposses- 
sion, ascribe more to antiquity than the ancients 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 315 

require ; and condemn Horace, by asserting, 
against the plainest evidence of fact, that there is 
the same force and beauty in every part of Ho- 
mer's works ? 

7. If I may be allowed to offer my thoughts 
on this point, with all due deference to better 
judges, I must own, that there are many defects 
to be seen in the most excellent of the ancients. 
For instance, I cannot relish the chorus in their 
tragedies : they interrupt tlie true action : they 
have not an exact show of probability ; because 
some scenes ou^ht not to have a number of acting 
spectators. The discourses of the chorus are often 
general and insipid. I am apt to suspect that 
these interludes were introduced, before tragedy 
was brought to any perfection. 

Farther; I find, in the ancients, many strokes 
of pleasantry which are not very delicate. Cicero, 
the great Cicero himself, has several very poor 
quibbles. 

I cannot see Horace's genius in this low piece 
of satire, 

Proscripti regis Rupili pus atque venerium. 



Satir. lib. i. sat. 7. 

We should be apt to gape at reading it, if we did 
not know its author. 



316 A LETTER TO THE 

When I read this admirable ode of the same 
poet, 

Qualem ministrum fulminis alitem • 



Carm. lib. iv. ode 4. 
I am always sorry to find these words in it, 

— quib us 



Mos unde deductus per omne 
Tern pus Amazonia securi 
Dextras obarmet, quaerere distuli ; 
Nee scire fas est omnia. 

Take away this passage, and the ode is complete, 
and perfect. If it be said, that Horace designed 
to imitate Pindar in this sort of parenthesis, which 
is agreeable to the transport of an ode ; 1 will not 
dispute that : but I am not so fond of imitation, 
as to relish this flat and superfluous parenthesis. 
We allow of a noble disorder, which flows from 
transport, and a concealed art : but we cannot 
approve of an excursion to make a curious re- 
mark on a frivolous subject : it flattens the whole 
ode. 

Again ; Cicero's reproaches against Mark An- 
thony seem to me unbecoming the nobleness and 
excellence of his orations. His famous letter to 
Lucceius is full of the most gross and ridiculous 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 317 

ranity. We find almost as much in the epistles 
of Pliny the younger. The ancients fall often in- 
to an affectation in their style, which is somewhat 
like what we now call pedantry. Perhaps, for 
want of some notions, which we have from religion 
and natural philosophy, they too much admired 
several things which we value very little. 

8. The wisest ancients, perhaps, hoped, as the 
moderns do now, that they should surpass the mo- 
dels which they had to copy after. For example, 
why might not Virgil have hoped, by the descent 
of iEneas into hell,* to out-do Homer's review of 
the ghosts in the country of the Cimmerians ? It is 
Very probable that Virgil, notwithstanding his mo- 
desty, took pleasure in handling a new topic, in 
the fourth book of his iEneid, which Homer had 
not touched on. 

9. I confess, that the ancients have a great 
disadvantage in the grossness both of their religion 
and their philosophy. In Homer's time, their re- 
ligion was only a frightful collection of fables, as 
ridiculous as the tales of fairies, Their philosophy 
was entirely vain and superstitious. Before So- 
crates, their morality was extremely defective, 
though their legislators had given excellent rules 
for government. We must even acknowledge, 



Lib. 



318 A tETTER TO THE 

that Plato makes Socrates argue very weakly upon 
the immortality of the soul. That fine passage of 
Virgil, 

Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, 

Georg. n. 

in effect places all the happiness of wise men in 
freeing themselves froiti the dread of presages, 
and of hell. This poet promises no other reward, 
in the next life, to the purest and most heroic vir- 
tue, but the pleasure of sporting on the grass^ or 
fighting on the sand, or dancing, and singing ver- 
ses, or driving chariots, or having horses and ar- 
mour. And even these men, and the shows 
which amused them, were only vain shadows: 
yet these shadows longed impatiently to enter 
again into bodies, that they might begin anew 
to suffer all the miseries of (his life, which is only 
a continued sickness that leads us to death. Such 
is the greatest comfort which the ancients proposed 
to mankind : 

Pars in grain'meis exercent membra palestris. 

Virg. 2Encid, lib. vi. 
— quae lucis miseris tarn dira cupido ? 

Homer's heroes are not persons of any worth J 
and the characters of his gods are still inferior to 
these heroes, who fall so much short of the idea wr 



FRENCH ACADEMY. SI 9 

have of worthy men. No body would wish (o 
have a father so vicious as Jupiter, nor a wife so 
insupportable as Juno ; and far less so infamous as 
Venus. Who would choose such a boisterous 
friend as Mars ; or a servant so thievish as Mer- 
cury ? These gods seem to have been invented by 
the enemy of mankind , on purpose to authorize all 
sort of wickedness, and to ridicule the Deity. This 
induced Longinus to say, sect. 9, that Homer 
made gods of those men who were at the siege of 
Troy ; and that, on the contrary, he made his gods 
Hiere men. He adds, in the same chapter, that 
u the Jewish * lawgiver, who was no mean person, 
** having a just notion of the greatness and power 
'" of God, expressed it admirably well in the be- 
ginning of his laws, by these words ; ' God said, 



u 



5 



" Let light be made ; and it was made : Let the 
u earth be made, and it was made.' ' 

10. It must be acknowledged, that there are 
but few excellent authors among the ancients; and 
that the works of some moderns are very fine. 
When we do not read the ancients with the eaffer- 



^fc> v 



£v«jvqtv Tin eicrQo?\Yi y^u-^ocq tcjv vqucc'v, i( EiTrsv o 0eo?, <p'/j<7»* 
$*t ; ygvzrSa (pSq 9 xctt Ir/gvgro* ysi'sVSo; yrl, y.xl lyevtro." 

Longinus, sect. ix. 



320 A LETTER TO THE 

ness of a scholar, nor to inform ourselves of some 
particular facts, our taste confines us to a small 
number of Greek and Latin books. There are, in- 
deed, but few of them excellent ; though learning 
was so long cultivated both by the Greeks and 
Romans. We cannot, therefore* wonder that our 
age, which has just shaken off an ignorant unpo- 
liteness, has produced but few French books 
which one can often peruse with pleasure. I 
could easily mention several of the ancients, of 
whom we are not very fond ; as Aristophanes, Plau- 
tus, Seneca the tragedian, Lucan, and Ovid him- 
self. I could likewise name a great many modern 
authors, whom we relish, and justly admire ; but 
I will name none, lest I should offend their mo- 
desty whom I might mention, and be unjust to 
others, by not naming them. 

On the other hand, we ought to consider what 
may be said in favour of the ancients. Now, be- 
sides their having furnished our modern authors 
with almost all the best thoughts they have, we 
ought to set a value even on those parts of the an- 
cients' works which are not faultless. Longinus 
observes,* that " a discourse too much polished 

* To yztp 3 tv ttolvtI aK^\q 9 xlvSw®* <?(Ar,i£oTY,To; m — Tec h 
utyaXcc i7ncr(fcc7^n $1 <xvtq y'tviaQoti to /,ayeS<SsK 

Longinus, sect. xxxliJ. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 321 

" and refined^ is in danger of being mean. " He 
adds, that " the sublime strain, by its loftiness, 

u becomes slippery and dangerous."- Again, 

he says,* " though I have observed several faults 
" in Horner^ and other famous authors ; and 
" though nobody is more displeased with such 
" faults than I am ; yet, after all, I think— that 
" they are but little escapes which they over- 
" looked : for^ having their attention steadily 
f* fixed on what is truly great, they could not re* 
w gard little things :— tit is true, what is faultless 
u cannot be blamed; but that which is noble, 
u raises our admiration." This judicious critic 
thought that it was in Homer's old age, when he 
sometimes nodded a little, in the tedious narrations 
of the Odyssey : but he adds, that, after all, J this 
old age is the old age of a Homer. Indeed some 

* tlatg&rt$ei(jt.sv&* ^ iat oX'iycc xcc) avro<; ufjLapTyjjL&lcc, 
)k.cci OfAYipu acct rcuv cthXwv ocroi [Aeyiroi, xou vim ret roTc; vflcticr- 

}AClCriV UpE(TkQ (*£)><&*, Opwq $S B<% a^CtOTV}^o[\ot -fAolXKoV aVTOt 

ixa&iot yiCLh^Vy h Tret^opoif/iotlct &i a//iA«av, «x>j gtov km) u$ 
tTvyiv, olvcq [AtyaXvtpviuq aveirir&TOirq iretpvyvifyivot, 

LoNGiNus, sect, xxxiii. 

f xai to fAsv ctiflubrov & -^/iyeTcci, to jt/iya &e ytott Sat/- 
^a^£Ta,i. Idem, sect, xxxvi. 

% ccKkot yrigCK; omytifjLGii, y?£»$ © ojjlu<; Opi^a. 

Idem, sect. ix. 
Y 



322 A LETTER TO THE 

careless strokes of great painters excel the most 
finished pieces of a common artist. An ordinary 
critic cannot relish what is sublime ; it does not 
affect him. He employs himself more agreeably 
about a misplaced word, or a careless expression: 
He does not fully perceive the beauty of the ge- 
neral plan, and the order and strength which runs 
throughout a complete piece. I should like as 
well to see him busied about orthography, com- 
mas, and points of interrogation. I pity the au- 
thor who falls into such hands : 



Barbarus has segetes- 



Virg. Ecl.'u 



The critic who censures nobly, is delighted 
with what is noble in the work. He despises what 
Longinus calls " an exact and scrupulous deli- 
" cacy," sect. 35. Horace is of this taste. 

. ■ 

Verum ul>i plura nitent in carmine; non ego paucis 

OfFemlar maeulis, quas aut incuria fudit, 

Aut humana parum cavit natura 

Hor. Art. Poet. 

Besides, the monstrous grossness of religion 
among the ancients, and their want of true moral 
philosophy till the days of Socrates, tend, in one 
respect, to the honour of the ancient writer : for 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 32o 

certainly Homer was obliged to describe his gods 
just such as religion then represented them to the 
idolatrous world. He ought to describe men with 
those manners which prevailed in Greece, and the 
Lesser Asia. To blame Homer for copying nature ' 
faithfully, is to find fault with M. Mignard, M. 
de Troye, and M. Rigaut, for drawing exact pic- 
tures. Ought Momus to be drawn like Jupiter; 
Silenus, like Apollo; Aleeto, like Venus; or 
Thersites, like Achilles ? Must our present court 
be painted with the ruffs and beards used in for- 
mer reigns ? Since Homer, therefore, was to paint 
according to truth, ought we not to admire th§ or- 
der, proportion, grace, life, action, and senti- 
ments, which he has given to every thing he has 
drawn? The more monstrous and ridiculous his 
religion was, he is the more to be admired for hav- 
ing ennobled it with so many magnificent images : 
the grosser that the manners of his age were, the 
more surprising it is to see that he has given so 
much lively force to what is in itself so irregular, 
absurd, and shocking. What would he not have 
done, if he had had a Socrates to draw, or an Aris- 
tides, a Timoleon, an Agis, a Cleomenes, a Numa, 
a Camillus, a Brutus, or an Aurelius ? 

Some are disgusted at the frugality of the man- 
ners which Homer describes. But, besides that he 
ought to represent this ancient simplicity as faifh- 

y 2 



324 A LETTER TO THE 

fully as be did the grossness of the Pagan religion ; 
I must add, that nothing can be more amiable than 
this ancient simplicity of manners. Can they who 
improve their reason, and love virtue, compare 
that vain ruinous luxury > which is now the cor- 
ruption of our manners, and a reproach to the 
nation, with the happy and elegant simplicity 
which the ancients set before our eyes ? When 
I read Virgil, I would wish I were with that old 
man whom he describes : 

Namque sub (Ebaliae memini me turrlbus altis, 

Qua niger humectat flaventia culta Galesus, 

Corycium vidisse senem, cui pauca relicti 

Jugera ruris erant; nee fertilis ilia juvencis, 

Nee pecori opportuna seges Georg. iv. 

Regum sequabat opes animis ; seraque revertens 
Nocte domum, dapibus mensas onerabat inemptis. 
Primus vere rosam, atque autumno carpere poma; 
Et cum tristis hyems etiam nunc frigore saxa 
Rumperet, et glacie cursus fraenaret aquarum; 
Ule comam mollis jam nunc tondebat Acanthi 
JEstatem increpitans seram, Zephyrosque morantes. 

Ibid. 

Has not Homer given beauty enough to Ca- 
lypso's isle, and the gardens of Alcinous, without 
the help of marble or gilding? Are not the em- 
ployments of Nausicaa more commendable than 
the gaming and intrigues of our women now ? 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 325 

Our fore-fathers would have blushed at them : and 
yet some dare despise Homer for not having pro- 
phetically described those monstrous manners, 
while as yet the world was so happy as to know 
nothing of them. 

Virgil, who had a full view of all the Roman 
magnificence, has yet given a beauty to king 
Evander's poverty, and matde it cin ornament to 
bis poem. 

Talibus inter se dictis ad tecta subibant 

Pauperis Evandri : passimque armenta videbant 

Homanoque foro, et lautis mugire Carinis. 

Ut ventum ad secies ; hsec, inquit, limina victor 

Alcides subiit ; base ilium regia cepit. 

Aude, hospes, contemnere opes; et te quoque dignum 

Finge deo ; rebusque veni non asper egenjs. 

Dixit, et angusti subter fastigia tecti 

Ingentem JEnean duxit; stratisque locayit 

Effultum foliis ? et pelle Libystidis ursae. 

JEncid, lib. viii. 

The shameful corruption of our manners hin- 
ders us from raising our views to admire the sub- 
limity of these words, Aude hospes contemnere 
opes 

Titian, who excelled in country-pieces, paints 
a verdant valley with a clear stream running 
through it, steep mountains, and distant prospects 
bounded by the horizon. He never paints a fine 



326 A LETTER TO THE 

parterre, with mountains and marble basons. In 
like manner, Virgil does not draw proud senators 
busied in criminal intrigues : he represents an in- 
nocent labourer happy in his country life : 

Delude satis fluvium inducit, rivosque sequentes, 
Et cum exustus a^er morientibus a?stuat herbis, 
Ecce supercilio clivosi tramitis uudam 
Elicit : ilia cadens raucum per laevia murmur 
Saxa ciet, scatebrisque arentia temperat arva. 

Georg. lib. i. 

This poet even ventures to compare a free, 
peaceful country-life with the troublesome de- 
lights which people of great fortunes enjoy; and 
he imagines nothing more happy than a moderate 
condition; in which a wise man may be equally 
secure from envying the prosperity of some, and 
sympathizing in the miseries of others. 

Ilium non populi fasces, non purpura regum 

FJexit 

. neque ille 



Aut doluit miserans iiiopem, aut invidit habenti. 
Quos rami fructus, quos ipsa votentia rura 

Spon te tulere sua, carpsit ■ 

Georg. lib. ii. 

Horace (led from the delight and magnificence 
of Rome, to enjoy himself in solitude. 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 327 

Fastidiosam desere copiam, et 
Molem propinquam nubibus arduis ; 

Omitte mirari beatae 

Fumum, et opes, strepitumque Romas. 

Car. lib. iii. ode 29. 

mihi jam non regia Roma, 

Sed vacuum Tibur placet, aut imbelle Tarentum. 

Ep. lib. i. ep. 7. 

When poets would charm the imagination of 
men, they lead them far from great cities, and 
make them forget the luxury of the age : they 
carry them back to the golden age : they repre- 
sent shepherds dancing on the flowery grass, under 
the shade of some grove, in a delightful season ; 
rather than turbulent courts, and great men, who 
are unhappy by their very grandeur. 

Sweet solitude ! th' abode of innocence; 
Where, far from all the objects of vain pomp, 
My ease begins, and restless trouble ends ; 
Vallies, rocks, rivers, pleasing lonely shades; 
If ye were witnesses of my disquiet, 
Henceforth observe my calm entire content.* 

* Agreables deserts ! sejour de 1'innoce.nce; 
Ou, loin des vains objets de la magnificence, 
Commence mon repos, et finit mon tourment ; 
Vallons, fleuves, rochers, aimable solitude; 
Si vous fiites temoins de mon inquietude, 
Soy^z-le, desormais, de mon contentment. 



328 A LETTER TO THE 

Nothing so plainly shews the corrupted man- 
ners of a nation as this disdainful luxury, which 
despises the frugal simplicity of the ancients. It 
was this corruption which overthrew Rome. 
" They began," says Sallust,* " to intrigue, to ca- 
" rouse, to grow fond of imagery, paintings, car- 
" ved vessels — —Wealth began to be reckoned 
u honourable-— virtue to languish, and poverty to 

a be thought a reproach- Houses and country - 

& seats were built like towns — mountains were 
u levelled by private persons— who seemed to me 

" to sport away their riches The earth and seas 

" were ransacked for delicacies — m- v The poor 
Ithaca of Ulysses pleases me far more than a city 
shining with such extravagant magnificence. 
Happy were mankind, if they could be satisfied 
with such pleasures as may be enjoyed without 
guilt or ruin. It is i\ot the noble simplicity of the 
ancients which ought to be corrected, but our folly 
and pernicious vanity. 

1 cannot believe what some learned men have 
imagined ; who tell us, that Homer has interwo- 

* Insuevit amare, pQtare; signa, tabulas pictas, vasa 
caelata mirari — Divitiae hoaori esse coeperunt — hebescere vir- 
tus, paupertas probro haberi — Domos atque villas — in urbiuni 
modum exaedificatas — a privatis compluribus subversos montes 
— esse; quibus inilii ludibrio videntur fuisse divitiae — Vescendi 
causa terra manque omnia exnuirere- Sall. Bell. CatiL 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 329 

ven, in his poems, the most refined politics, the 
purest morality, and the sublimest notions of theo- 
logy. I cannot, indeed, discover these wonders 
in that poet's works : but I perceive the useful 
instruction which he designed to give the Greeks, 
whom he wished to see always united, and there^ 
by more powerful than the Asiatics, He shewed 
them, that Achilles' resentment against Agamem- 
non brought greater misfortunes qij Greece, than 
the Trojan arms, 

Quicquid delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi 
Seditione, dolis Hor. Ep. lib. i. ep. 2. 

In vain did the Platonists of the lower empire, 
who imposed on Julian, fancy that there are alle- 
gories and deep mysteries in the stories of the 
deities whom Homer describes. These mysteries 
are chimerical. It appears from the holy scrip- 
ture ; from the fathers who confuted the heathen 
idolatry ; and from the plainest evidence of fact ; 
that the religion of the ancients was monstrous 
and extravagant. But Homer did not frame it : 
he found it established, and could not alter it. 
He has adorned it : he has concealed much art in 
his work : he has ranged all the parts of it in such 
an order as continually raises the reader's curio- 
sity. He has painted every thing with simplicity, 



330 A LETTER TO THE 

beauty, force, majesty, and passion. What can 
we desire more ? 

It is natural for the moderns, who excel in 
elegance and ingenious turns, to fancy that they 
have surpassed the ancients, whose chief excel- 
lence is a natural simplicity. But I must beg 
leave here to propose a sort of apologue. The 
inventors of the Gothic kind of architecture, 
which is said to have come from the Arabians, 
fancied, no doubt, that they had out-done the 
Greek architects. A Grecian structure has no- 
thing in it which is merely ornamental. The 
parts that are necessary to support, or to cover it, 
as the pillars, and the cornish, become ornaments 
only by their beautiful proportion. Every thing 
is simple, exact, and useful. We see nothing in 
it either bold or fanciful, which can impose on the 
sight. The proportions are so just, that nothing 
seems very noble, though the whole really be so. 
Every thing is designed to satisfy true reason. 
On the contrary, the Gothic architect, upon very 
slender pillars, raises up a vast roof into the 
clouds. One would fancy it were going to 
tumble, though it stands many ages. It is all full 
of windows, roses, and little knacks. The stones 
seem to be pinked, and cut out like paper baubles. 
Every thing looks gay and light, as it were hang- 
ing in the air. Was it not natural, now, for. the 



FRENCH ACADEMY. 331 

first Gothic architects to imagine, that, by their 
vain refinements, they had out-done the Greek 
simplicity? Now, only change the names, and 
put poets and orators instead of architects : Liican 
must naturally fancy he was a greater poet than 
Virgil : Seneca the tragedian must imagine he 
was brighter than Sophocles : Tasso, perhaps, 
hoped he should out-strip Virgil and Homer. If 
these authors thought so, they were much de- 
ceived. And the most excellent modern authors 
should beware of the like mistake. 

While I speak thus freely, I would jiot be 
thought to determine this point. I only advise 
those who adorn the present age not to despise 
the ancient writers who have been so long ad- 
mired. I do not extol the ancients as models 
without any defect. I would not even discourage 
any one from hoping to surpass them. On the 
contrary, I wish I could see the moderns excel, 
by studying those very ancients, whom they shall 
overcome. But I should think I exceeded the 
bounds prescribed me, if I pretended to adjudge 
the prize to either of the contending parties : 

Non nostrum inter vos tantas componere lites : 

Et vitula tu dignus, et hie • Virg. Eel. iii. 

You pressed me, sir, to declare my thoughts : 
and I have not so much consulted my ability, as 



332 A LETTER, &e. 

my zeal for the Academy. Perhaps I have gone 
too far; but I designed not to say a word which 
should make me seem partial. It is time for me 
to conclude, 

Phoebus volentem proelia me loqui, 
Victas et urbes, increpuit, lyra ; 
Ne parva Tyrrhenum per aequor 

Vela darem 

Hor. Carm. lib. iv. ode 15. 

I shall always remain, with a sincere and high 
esteem, 



SIR, &c. 



INDEX- 



A Page 

ACADEMY, French, its rise, and nature, 205, 206 
An English one proposed* .. i. ......... . 212> 217 

Action, of what use in speaking* $9, 90, 94 

It ought to be easy and natural • • • 92, 93 

Not uniform • • • ...... • >............. . 94 

(See Hands, Eyes, Voice.) 
Address of an orator, what kind most proper* • • • • 102 

Ambrose's style i$j 

Ancients, their excellence* ................... 156 

Their way of expressing the passions* • • • • • 96, 265 

Their simplicity. ....... 135, 26l> 262, 323, 328 

Their defects * * > 314, 317 

Antitheses, forced ones childish ..».*.... 133 

Apostles, unacquainted with the true Greek, 142, 143 
Their manner of preaching* ........... 150> 153 

Their irregular style, whence 159> 160 

Aristophanes' low humour censured 289 

Aristotle's rhetoric, its character • 15 

Art, ought to be concealed • • • - * 87, 103, 242 

And to resemble nature 102, 262 

Arts, which proper to be cultivated in a wise go- 
vernment • • • • ...... ....*.* 21, 22 



INDEX. 

Page 

Augustus' character, from Sueton 287 

Austin's style 185, 184 

His character • • 185, 247 

His notions of eloquence 185, 221, 222 

His persuasive art • 223, 224 

Author, ought to labour for his reader's ease* • • • 257 

And distrust the praises given him 311,312 

Qualifications of a good author 259, 260 

(See Preacher, Historian, Poet,) 

B 

BASIL'S character and style ♦ 191, 245 

Beautiful in poetry, what really so • • 263, 273 

Beauties of eloquence, which solid .......... 84, 85 

The false kind ♦** 3, 85, 126, 131 

(See Ornaments-, Witty Conceits.) 

Bernard's style 246 

Brutus' eloquence, in a letter to Tully • • • • 230—232 

C 

CATECHISING, generally defective 177 

Caesar's Commentaries, their simplicity commended 

by Cicero 300 

ChrysostomV character and style 1 <)0, 245 

Cicero's eloquence ♦ 72 — 74 

Compared with Demosthenes 241, 242 

Clergymen are to set a good example 42 

How to employ their time • • • 44 

Composing much, necessary to an orator- • * • *• • • 108 



i:ndex. 

Pate 

Connexion, sometimes to be neglected S8 

Conversation, what sort useful 13, 66 

Corneille's Oedipus, its faults 2?6 

Corruption of the ancient philosophy and elo- 
quence 49, 50, 189, 245 

Cyprian's rhetoric 182, 1S3 

D 

D'A VILA'S history, its character • 306 

Decency to be regarded in action. •• • g6 

And in style 233 

Declaimers, useless in society • 31, 33 

(See Rhetoricians.) 

Defects, when small, to be overlooked Ill 

Demosthenes, his character 13, 14, 15 

His first Philippic quoted 225 

Compared with Tully, and preferred • • • • 241, 242 

Diction. (See Style.) 

Dictionary, a new one by the French Academy • • • 207 
Its use and advantages • • ib. 

Discourse, how made sensible 91, 102 

Ought always to be plain • 257 

The perfection of a discourse • - 239 

(See F 'reach ing, Homily, Sen?2ons.) 

Division of a sermon, how to be made 9 

Not necessary 1 ] 9 

Its inconveniencies • • 120 

Not used by the ancients 121 

To whom useful ♦...., 1^4 



INDEX. 

E Pag* 

ELOQUENCE, its design and use, 18—21, 71, 148, 

237, 238 
A difficult art* .......... j% 

Consistent with the simplicity of the gospel- • • • 147 
The false kind to be rejected ........ 51, 52, 147 

"the true sort best learned from eloquent au- 
thors ...... . . .......... .^ . . . 247 

Elocution, what-- • - .*.<....*...........*... gQ 

Little understood, or practised • ........ . . . . . 93 

(See Action, Voice.) 

jEneid, its design and moral • • • * 37 

Enthusiasm of poets 84 

True and false enthusiasm 158, 197 

Eyes, of what use in action ............. * . . . 105 

P 

FACTS, the best foundation of sermons • 125 

How to be represented 133, 134 

Fathers, ancient, the channels of tradition 169 

In what to be imitated 170, 171 

Their interpretations of scripture, when to be 

followed- - • ........ . 170 

Their character*. ....♦..• 171, 245 

Not complete models of eloquence ...... 1 89, 245 

Florid kind of eloquence, its defects 233, 235 

(See Style, Beauties.) 

French language, how to be improved ••• • 210, 2l6 



INDEX. 

Page 

French poetry and versification, scarce iraproveable, 259 

How cramped 250, 258 

Fund of solid notions necessary to an orator • • • • 6l 

The want of it too common > 62, 118 

How supplied 64, 1 1 S 

(See Knowledge.) 

Fustian of modern tragedies 278, 284 

G 

GESTURE of the ancients, violent 89 

Of French preachers, excessive 90 

It ought to be natural and various ...... 102, 103 

Gothic architecture compared with the Grecian, 132, 133 
Ornaments 132 

Grammar, a new French one proposed 20S 

The best method for composing it • • • • 209 

Greek writers, the most ancient to be imitated, 59, 156 

Gymnastic art, how used by the ancients 49 

H 

HANDS, when to be used in action 90, 92 

Haranguers, who • t 62 — 64, 134, 137 

Intolerable to people of sense • 63 

Hearers, how to be gained • 102 

Their ignorance generally great 140 

Their capacity should be consulted 113, 141 

(See Sermons, Impressions, Discourse,) 

Herodotus, a character of his history 305 

History, sacred, useful in sermons •••♦.... 125, 141 

z 



INDEX. 

Page 

History, a treatise on it wanted* .•*•*•••«•#•••• 294 
Rules for composing it •••••• ••*•+••• 295—304 

Historian, the qualifications of a good one, 295, 297, 

298—303 
A character of the ancient historians 305, 306 

Homily preaching censured • • ♦ • • l65, \66 

Homer's character ...*.... 85, 314 

His art in describing things 135, %65 9 272 

The characters of his heroes 318, 319 

His excellence * 321, 324 

Homilies in the ancient way, the best method of 

instruction • . « 178, 179 

Horace, his artful, moving descriptions * • • • 271, 272 

His character of a good poem 273 

His defects 315, 3lG 

I 

JEREMIAH's Lamentations inimitably tender- • « • 157 

Jerome's style 187 

His advice to Nepotian about preaching 201 

Iliad, its design and moral 36 

Impression on hearers, how best made, 3, 101, 102, 114 

Instruction, proper for common people • • • • 146, 147 

How to be given 114, 162, 172 

The right method neglected • 173 

(See Hearers, Preachers, Scripture.) 

Isaiah, very lofty and sublime 157 

Isocrates' style 13, 14, 241 

His vain delicacy and false wit* 129, 130 

His low notions of eloquence 13, 243 






INDEX. 

K Page 
KNOWLEDGE, what sort necessary to an ora- 
tor 54, 6l 

Chiefly wanting in public speakers • • • 6 1 

Of ancient poetry and eloquence very useful to 
the clergy •*«.••• 168 

L 

LANGUAGE, how to be improved 21 1, 215 

Livy's harangues in his history not genuine 302 

Longinus' character* 17 

M 

MARKS of an eloquent discourse 65 

Memory, how far necessary to an orator • 11 6 

Not to be burdened with every word 114 

Best helped by the natural order of things • • • • 125 
Method. (See Order,) 

Mind and body, how to be improved * • • 22, 49 

Moderns compared with the ancients 308 — 310 

Ought not to despise, but imitate them- • 310 — 313 

Moliere's comedies, remarks on them 292 — 294 

Monotony, a common fault, and shocking ••• • Q5, 93 

Moses' Songs, very sublime 156 

Movements in eloquence, what 87, 89 

Moving the passions, one chief end of oratory • • • 65 

Music, how used by the ancients* 24, 27, 235 

Mystical interpretations of scripture, whence, 195, 19$ 

z 2 



INDEX. 

Page 

Mystical interpretations of scripture used frequently 

by the fathers 195 

And by many moderns injudiciously 196 

N 

NAHUM's Prophecy, lofty and poetical 157 

Nature, to be followed in descriptions- • 135, 263, 264 

Nazianzen's (Gregory) style 191 

Negligence, the appearance of it useful •••••• 74, 110 

O 

ODYSSEY, its design and moral 36, 37 

Orator, ought to be disinterested 38 

Inflexibly virtuous 39, 244 

Above want 40 

His other qualifications 6l, 236, 237, 240 

He must be moved himself 103, 112 

Order, without divisions best 119 

General one to be strictly observed 121, 123 

Ornaments of discourse, which true, 75, 76, S4, 85 

237, 259 

False ones • 127, 128, 132 

Superfluous ones to be retrenched 259, 260 

Origin and institution of things, to be explained in 

sermons • • • • 141, 175, 1 76 

P 

PAINTING in oratory, what 76, 83, 136 

Pancgyrick, the design and rules of it, 34, 35, 199, 200 



INDEX. 

Page 

Pancgyrick, general and excessive, to be avoided, 134 
Parochial clergy, why fittest to preach, l66, 167, 17 6 
Pastor, the character of a complete one, 50, 166, 1/2 
St. Paul did not disclaim all kind of eloquence, 143, 155 
Perfection in compositions, the idea of it necessary 

to an author 312 

Periods, chiming, to be avoided • 127 

Perspicuity, the first thing to be considered in a 

discourse 152 

Persuasion, the chief end of eloquence, 19,68, 69, 107 
The proper way of it best learned from scripture, 165 

Philosophy, necessary to an orator 55 — 5S 

Plato's character 18 

His notions of eloquence 47, 56 

Piiny, the younger, censured v • • • • 55 

Poet, a true one's character 3 lS 

Poetry, a-kin to eloquence • • • • 81 

An imitation of nature 263 

How used by the ancients 24, 25, 248 

Necessary to complete an orator SI, S3 

A treatise upon it wanted « 247 

Its excellence • 248 

Politeness in language, a false kind of it 134 

Preachers, their qualifications •• • 118, 140, 148, 154 

234, 244 
Vain-glorious ones censured, l6l, l64, 221, 222, 234 

Oftentimes not instructive 100, 101, l6s 

Tiiey ought to set a good example 43, 244 

Two good sorts of preachers 197 

(See Pastor.) 



INDEX. 

Page 

Preaching in the ancient way of homily most useful, 1 SO 

Formerly confined to bishops • • • • 166,167 

Preaching by heart, word for word, not a right 

way .... 107— 1 14 

(See Instruction, Persuasion, Discourse.) 

Preparation for speaking in public ...... 62, 63, 235 

For preaching without notes* ;••••?• • • • • 108 — 1 14 

Advantages for this way of preaching, 112, 113, 118 
Preparing every word, inconveniencies of it- • • • 114 
Not used by the ancients •••...*..... ..... 115 

Presence of mind, necessary to an orator- • • 114, 11 6 

Pronunciation. — (See Elocution.) 

Proofs of religion, which the best .............. 175 

R 

RACINE's Phcedra, its faults ............ 276, 279 

The tragedy he designed according to the an- 
cient model commended • • • 282 

Reading of sermons. — (Note.) 117 

Reading of prayers. — (Note.) 17S 

Recapitulation proper • • • • 123 

Repetitions, often useful in sermons 110, 114 

Rhetoricians, unprofitable* 52, 33 9 52 

Selfish and mercenary 33, 39, 40 

Ancient ones, their folly • 46, 47 

Rhetoric, why most cultivated by the ancients • • • 219 

Their oratory at the bar 220 

The modern rhetoric of the bar ib. 

Rhyme, hinders the improvement ti poetry •••• 250 

251, 283 



INDEX. 

Page 

Rhyme, tiresome to the ear ••••••• • •♦•••••••• 252 

More difficult than all the ancient rules of poetry, 253 

Romans, ancient, their character •••- • 227, 285, 286 
Their eloquence .' ;".'V f V.*.V.y. 228, 229 

Rules of rhetoric, too many dry and useless ones, 15, 54 

S 

SALLUSTs History, its character- ........... 305 

Scripture, its eloquence ••••-• ♦ 142, 156 — 159, l6l 

Should be imitated by preachers • • • • l6l, i64, 165 

An inexhaustible source of noble thoughts* • • • • 1J)6 

It excels all other books in sublimity, grandeur, 

and natural representations 136, 156 

A character of its several parts 156 — 159 

Its connexion wonderful ......... • • • • 162 

It should be fully explained in a connected plan 

of instruction • - - 139, 162, 1?5 

And should be interpreted literally 193, 196 

Sermons, how composed generally, 117, 118, 162, 163 

They should not be long 178 

But always adapted to the hearers ........... 113 

From ill men, how heard • • • '• . - • • • ■* • «* * • 43, 44 
(See Preaching, Reading.) 

Silence, sometimes most expressive • Q3 

Simplicity of the ancients • • • • • 85, 156, 26l 

Of scripture, greater- •• 136, 155, 15s 

Of the ancient poets 26l, 263 

Of Caesar's style • • 300 

Of Terence's--. 290, 291 



INDEX. 

Page 
Socrates, his notions of rhetoric, and of its profes- 
sors * 46, 57 

Sophocles, the design of his tragedies 30 

His Oedipus quoted 280 

Style, pompous and swelling, a common fault* • • • 135 

It ought to be various • 137 

Adapted to the subject 139 

Clear 258 

And concise • 215 

(See Discourse, Ornaments.) 
Sublime, explained and exemplified by Longinus, lS 

Character of the true sublime 259 

(See Scripture, Ancients.) 



T 

TACITUS' History, remarks on it 306 

Taste of eloquence, how to be formed 127 

Not yet established 192 

Of a preacher is to be fixed before he reads the 

fathers 192 

Of different nations various 219 

Gothic taste- • 132 

Ancient taste, when corrupted 189, 245 

Terence's character 290, 291 

Tcrtullian s style very faulty 1 SO, 181 

Text, its first rise 193 

It should be well explained 7 

Ought not to be forced 3 93, J 9 t 

Nor quaint • b > 1 1 



j 



INDEX. 

Pnpe 

Thucydides' history, its character 30o 

Tragedies of the ancients excited always terror or 

piety 30 

They had no scenes of love •• 2/6 

French tragedy, why imperfect 275 

Tragic poets, their faults 276, 277 

Trajan's character 288 

Transition, sometimes to be neglected 110 

W. 

WISDOM and pleasure were joined by the ancients 27 

Witty conceits to be avoided 9, 131, 192 

How distinguished from solid sense- ••• 75, 76, 84 



U 

UNITY of parts necessary in all compositions, 237, 239 
Wanting in divided sermons* • • • • 120 



V 

VEHEMENCE necessary in an orator- • • Q5, 96, 237 

When unseasonable 94 

Versification, distinct from poetry 82 

Virgil's character 7S, SO, 134, 314 

Suspected of flattery 38 

His artful moving descriptions 264, 2?0 

His imitation of Homer 326, 329 

Virtue, essential to aa orator • 40 



INDEX. 

Pag<* 

Voice to be varied 96, gg, 103 

Should be agreeable to nature • 104, 105 

And adapted to the subject 103 



F I N I S. 



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